Down the Hall
by PhantomProducer
Summary: Taking a chance on a new job and a new city, a young woman also sees that chances abound even in her new building, with her new neighbor. A modern, real-world AU story (no superpowers, etc.). Complete.
1. Chapter 1

Just a few more boxes, and then she'd be home free.

Well, at least that was the lie Holly was telling herself. In truth, she was just moving boxes of her possessions from the lobby to ring around the door of her apartment, and then she'd have to push them all inside. More unpacking would proceed from there, but at that moment, all she could think about was just getting it all to the second floor. A snort shot out of her nose as she set the box she was carrying atop the nearest stack. If it weren't for the moving company workers she'd hired to haul her stuff just tossing everything in the building before disappearing, she wouldn't have had to deal with it, period. As it was, it had happened, and she was doing the work in between fielding phone calls from her parents, assuring them of her arrival and well-being.

They had a right to worry, after all: it wasn't every day that their youngest daughter pulled up sticks and moved across the country. Having not ventured far from her home state, the job offer from the Washington, D.C. branch of a national book retailer was an opportunity she could not pass up. Not after a few years of putting in her time at some smaller businesses around the suburbs of St. Paul, not after working hard to maintain their social media presences and keeping them out of the red by finding new ways to appeal to customers and drag them into the twenty-first century (almost kicking and screaming, for a couple of the small shops and businesses that hired her). Having spotted the advertisement for the position online, she took a chance, not wishing to work freelance any longer.

As it turned out, her multiple jobs and flexibility had led to two phone interviews, and a video call that ended in an offer. Sure, she had to move to the District of Columbia, pack up her belongings and begin work within a month, but it was a risk she felt she had to take. Holly had a chance, a chance that, as time went on, was harder to come by back home. Besides, she was a grown woman, and a grown woman needed to have a little adventure in her life at some point. And what would it all be, if not a personal adventure of sorts?

Still, it would have helped if the adventure wasn't on a precarious timetable to start with. And it definitely would have helped if she hadn't been ditched so quickly once she'd gotten to where she needed to go. After a day and a half on the road, it was not ideal to find all her things literally left out in the open, before she could even get her keys. At least the building she'd been moved into was nice; she'd come down a few weeks prior with her brother to do some apartment hunting, and the neighborhood of Georgetown seemed to fit the bill. The Potomac wasn't far, and the university brought in a mix of people, students amidst the politicians and lobbyists who made their homes there. However, the building chosen was not exactly inhabited by politicians; the red brick on the outside, while clean, was a little worn. High-end accouterments were not part of the deal, but it was still above the studio she'd been living in back home. Her starting salary would definitely cover the rent and then some, but she admired the charm of the five story building on R Avenue, and the single bedroom unit won out over the others she'd seen. (Her brother Hank was surprised she'd found a place within the first two days of scouting, and he had no complaints of spending the rest of the trip pretending to be the biggest tourist out there.) Notice was given at her old place, her things packed, and then she cut across country on her own, hoping for a smooth transition.

That definitely was not the case, but once she'd handed over her rent check and got her keys, she was determined to make the best of it, bringing in what she'd brought in her own car and holding her head high. For the first few minutes, at least. And on the positive side, it was spring; she would've hated having to move in the middle of winter.

Blowing out a sigh, she swiped back the hair that had fallen loose from her ponytail. Removing the binder and securing her brown waves into a bun off of her neck, she bit her lip and mulled over what was left in the lobby. So lost in thought was she that she did not notice the shrieks and giggles from down the hall, growing closer and closer with every second. Patting the nearest box tower, she turned and took a few steps back towards the elevator bank, startled into stopping the small body rocketing into her path. It rebounded off of her, knocking her into the wall a little and causing her to catch herself on her elbow. Hissing at the brief flash of pain, she leaned against the wall, rubbing the sore limb.

"Sorry!" a high-pitched voice crowed, and Holly looked down at the source of it. It belonged to the whirl that had come around the corner, having reformed into a young boy. Big, brown eyes a few shades lighter than her own stared up at her, blond hair flopping over his forehead. His little face was red, his expression contrite as his head bowed, small fingers curving around the hem of his shirt and jacket. He couldn't have been more than four or five years old, and in that instant he had the gravitas of an adult (despite the lower lip beginning to poke out as he looked at his light-up sneakers).

"That's okay. I should've been watching where I was going," she told him, not really offended by his actions. She had a young niece and nephews; she understood all too well how they could just take off and run around, unaware of their surroundings. Inwardly, she was just grateful he hadn't slammed into one of the box towers she had stacked up in the hall. Glancing over him, she wondered, "Are you alright?"

Sniffing once, the little guy nodded, a tremulous smile on his lips. "Yeah. Didn't hurt."

Holly let out a sigh of relief. "Good, that's good."

As she mirrored his nod, she watched as the young boy's attention moved from her to the boxes stacked around her apartment door, his eyes widening even more as he stepped closer.

"That's a lot of boxes," he breathed, slowly laying a palm against one of them. Glancing back over his shoulder at her, he muttered, "You have a lot of stuff."

"Seems that I do," she chuckled, taking a step away from the wall. Rubbing a hand along the back of her neck, she asked the boy, "So, uh, what's your name?"

His smile broadened again, a dimple appearing in his left cheek. "James, but everybody calls me Jamie."

"Nice to meet you, Jamie. I'm Holly," she said, about to offer her hand before stopping herself at the last second. She didn't want to get into trouble with whoever the boy's parents were, if she touched him without them being around. Instead, she waved her hellos, and he gave her one back. "I guess we'll be kinda-sorta neighbors."

He grinned again, revealing a missing tooth in the bottom row. "Cool."

She nodded, brushing her palms along the sides of her jeans. Glancing around, she began to ask the question that had been on her mind for the last minute or two.

"Say, kiddo, where's your—"

"Jamie!" A baritone voice boomed out from down the hall, heavy footsteps striding hard against the carpeted floor. The little boy looked up, his dark eyes wide as the person came closer. Holly's own gaze became significantly wider as well. The man who had appeared was, well...he was rather good-looking, if she did say so herself. The shade of his blond hair matched that of the young boy, and the similar nose shape and mouth indicated that he must have been related to him. He was tall, over six feet if she had to guess (making her, at five-foot-seven, feel small), and well-built. Instead of brown eyes, though, he had sharp blue, which were focusing entirely on Jamie as he approached. His brow had furrowed, his lips set in a thin line as he got closer. "What have I told you about getting ahead of me?"

The contrite look returned, and the little boy stared at his feet again, scuffing the toe of his shoe against the carpet.

"'M sorry, Daddy," Jamie breathed, not looking up at his father. The bigger man's features softened slightly, but the seriousness in him did not.

"I know, bud," he said, kneeling down to his son's level. Concentrating on the boy, he took his hands, compelling him to listen as he spoke. "Look, we live in a big city, which means we've gotta be careful. Even in our own building. You can't run off like you did. Got it?"

"Uh-huh," Jamie said, giving one more dip of the chin. He glanced up at Holly then, his face reddening slightly at having a witness to his father reprimanding him. And the bigger fellow gave her a cursory glance as well.

"Good. Sorry if he…" Bright eyes turned to her fully, and the fellow blinked as he rose from his crouch. His mouth was open a little, and Holly felt a wave of shyness overtake her briefly, her head ducking for a second or two as she tried to get her bearings. Coughing, he cleared his throat after a moment, tipping his chin down at his son. "Uh, sorry about bothering you."

She shook her head, a few strands of hair falling from her messy bun.

"That's fine. Wasn't a bother at all," Holly reassured him, stepping closer to her boxes. Lifting a shoulder, she continued, "Actually, it was a nice bit of a break. These aren't exactly the lightest."

She patted one of the box stacks for emphasis, though she had to spring forward and catch one before it could sway any harder than it had. Twin spots of color erupted in her cheeks, and she chuckled sheepishly. The blond man nodded again, though a wry smile was playing across his lips.

"Couldn't entice anyone to help ya out?"

She shrugged, smirking somewhat.

"Nobody wanted free beer and pizza," she joked, crossing her arms over her chest—in that moment, she wished she'd picked anything but her worn college t-shirt to wear that day. Letting a deep breath out, she flicked her gaze towards the elevator bank down the hall. "I just moved here for work, so I don't really know anybody who could have helped. And the moving company pretty much bailed right after dumping everything in the lobby."

His brow furrowed, a bit of indignation firing in his face. "That's awful."

She met his gaze then, the dark brown irises laced with irritation.

"Yeah, trust me, a complaint call has been made," she grumbled, flapping a hand in the air. "At least I got refunded half of what I paid because of those di—erm, dinguses they farmed out for the job."

She'd barely caught herself with that; she didn't want to get on bad terms with her neighbor by using questionable language around his son. Jamie giggled then, and Holly grinned down at him.

"Never heard that one before, kiddo?" she asked, to which the little boy shook his head.

"It's funny," he stated, muttering 'dingus' a couple of times. The older woman laughed a bit at his obvious delight, her smile remaining. His father took in a deep breath, his mouth curving in disbelief at what was happening before him. Soon enough, he was pulled out of his private thoughts as his son grabbed his hand, tugging on it insistently. Glancing at Jamie, he bent down when the little guy gestured for him to come closer. Nodding to the brunette woman, he commanded, "Daddy, be nice and tell Holly your name."

"Oh, right. Manners," he replied _sotto voce_ , before straightening and grinning at his boy. "Thank you for reminding me."

His free hand came up, held out to her, and she stepped forward to take it. The brush of the healed callouses on the pads of his fingers registered faintly, but she concentrated on his voice as he went on with his introduction.

"I'm Steve."

"Holly," she returned, faint humor surfacing in her tone.

"So I've heard," he returned, chuckling inwardly as another flush of pink invaded her cheeks. Taking another look at all the boxes in the hallway, he let the joviality slip into sincerity as he scratched the back of his neck and offered, "Do you want some help with all this? It looks like a lot to deal with on your own."

Another flush of red surfaced, and at once she lifted her hands.

"Thanks, but I don't want to interrupt your day. I'm sure you probably have other things you'd rather do."

"We can help!" Jamie burst out, nearly on his tiptoes as he leaned forward. "Daddy's really strong, and so am I! We could get it done fast."

Well, Holly wasn't going to deny that Steve looked strong; even beneath the navy-colored jacket he was sporting, it was easy to tell he was muscular. With his build, she did not doubt that he could definitely be of assistance. And the little guy seemed so eager to do what he could, even at his age...she couldn't help but be touched by the insistence.

"Well, if you really want to, Jamie, I would be glad for it," she replied, tentatively accepting their aid. The corners of her mouth curved, and she went on, "You'd definitely get some pizza if you did. Both of you."

The glimmer in Steve's sky blue irises grew, and he smirked. "I'm all for that."

"Yeah!" the little boy cheered, immediately rushing forward to grab a box. His father swiftly followed him, finding one of the light bags she had propped up against the wall instead for Jamie to carry in.

Unlocking her door, she gestured for them to start bringing them inside while she brought up the remaining boxes. Luck was on her side, as none of them had been touched in the time she'd met Jamie and Steve. Carefully, she grabbed and maneuvered each onto the conveyance, apologies given to the other tenants who had boarded along with her. On and off, she boarded the elevator to remove her things, finally pulling them down the hall to her door. As she entered the apartment, she exhaled softly, marveling as Steve easily handled three of her boxes that solely held books, snapping her jaw shut when he chanced a glance back at her and gave her a half-smile. Jamie did his best, pushing boxes over the threshold when he could, and opening them to be emptied when he could not. As the hours passed, the trio went at her belongings, shifting them into the correct rooms and getting what could be put away stashed in the right spots. And in between the unpacking, she found the time to get to know her helpers.

"Where do you guys live?" Holly asked as she tore into a box and pulled out a couple of wrapped glasses. "What number, I mean?"

"We're in 210," Steve told her, unloading a few pots from another box. "Just a few doors down."

She smiled softly to herself. "Kinda-sorta neighbors."

"Right," he replied, grinning in minor confusion at her words. When she did not elaborate, he mentally shrugged and went about his task, stashing the pots in the cupboard she requested he place them in. More questions came instead of an explanation, such as what Steve did for a living, how old Jamie was, and even what their last name was. Those were answered easily: graphic designer for an ad company, four years old ("Four and a half!" was the high-pitched retort), and Rogers. They, in turn, asked her a few things about her new job, what she thought of D.C. so far, and how long it had taken her to get there. The rapport that built was smooth and easy, much easier than she thought it would be with new neighbors. The other tenants she'd come across were alright, thus far, but she knew for a fact that this man and his son were being quite kind to her. She would be grateful for it in the coming days, as she faced a new city and new job all on her own. With most of the kitchen accouterments either in their proper places or the counters, the two adults found their way over to the living room space, where Jamie was opening up more boxes to sort through.

"You have a ton of books," the little boy crooned, reaching into one and pulling out her copy of _Les Mis_ _é_ _rables,_ staring at its thickness.

Steve clicked his tongue. "Jamie..."

"Well, I really like to read," she told him, swiping a hand over her sweaty brow. Jovially, she added, "It's my addiction."

The bigger man came up alongside her, crossing his arms over his chest and smirking. "Not a bad one to have."

Jamie peered into the other boxes nearby, wonderment in his voice when he crowed, "You've read all of them?"

"At least once, if not many times," she professed, stifling a giggle at his agog expression. Clearing her throat, she sat down on the floor nearby, drawing another box closer. "Do you like books?"

"Yeah!" he said, nodding enthusiastically. "I have lots of books, too."

"Which we have also read multiple times," Steve intoned, lips curling up as she proceeded to ask his son about his favorite stories. Getting down on his knees, he helped take out the books as well. They were sorted by author, and then by title, artfully arranged in neat stacks for when Holly found the time to get bookshelves.

"Well, I think that just about does it for today," she exclaimed over an hour later, the afternoon gone as the final book was perched and her last piece of hang-up clothing in the closet. Her fingers dashed away the bit of sweat that had cropped up on her forehead again, and gave a pleased grin. With the aid of the Rogers boys, unpacking had gone much more swiftly than she had anticipated, and she was incredibly relieved.

Steve quirked an eyebrow, raking his gaze over the place. "No furniture?"

She too took in the wide expanse of the apartment, from the empty dining area to the bare living room, occupied only by the television balancing along the far wall, the remaining box with her DVDs, and the books stacked up.

"Sold the bigger stuff before the move, so I'm gonna trek out to a few stores over the next couple of days," she explained, brushing off the concern. "I don't start my new job until Monday, so I've got a little time."

Jamie's brow furrowed, a finger pointing back toward her bedroom. "But there's no bed. You gonna sleep on the floor?"

Steve flashed her an alarmed look, but she quickly held up a hand to stem any objections to her doing so.

"I've got an air mattress. It'll do until tomorrow," she said, her resolve hardening even as her insides quaked. She'd have to get a rental truck to do that, but she would be willing to put up with it, if it meant having a mattress the next day, at least. She didn't look forward to pumping up her bed for the night, but she could accept it.

"So you'll kinda camp, then," Jamie declared, the idea holding some merit in his eyes. Steve snorted at that, and Holly inclined her head.

"Sort of, kiddo," she said, reaching out and ruffling his hair. The soft, blond spikes sifted between her fingers, and he crowed jokingly at her before she withdrew. Striding into her so-called bedroom, she retrieved her cell phone (which had been plugged in and balanced atop the suitcase that held her dresser clothes) and came back to the Rogers boys. Tapping at the screen, she stated, "And now I owe you gentlemen some pizza, it seems. Know a good place, or am I gonna have to go box-chain generic on this?"

Jamie was practically jumping up and down in joy, and his father swept him up in his arms when he leaped at him.

"Paisano's is pretty decent," Steve grunted as he supported the boy, following it with a shrug and tip of his head. "Like any pizza outside New York is."

Holly's eyebrows inclined, and she snickered. "Oh, boy. A true-blue pizza snob, right in my own home."

Steve raised his nose in the air, sniffing dramatically.

"It ain't being snobby. It's being particular."

"Ah, world of difference there," she replied, giving him a mocking wink. When he nodded staunchly, she narrowed her eyes thoughtfully at him. "New York, huh?"

The amusement in his face drained away slightly as he affirmed her suspicions. "Brooklyn, specifically. Moved here about five years ago. And you definitely aren't from around here, either."

She tapped the end of her nose, and grinned as he lifted his chin in triumph. "Minnesota. Just outside of St. Paul."

Their origins confirmed with each other, she went on to look up the number for the pizza place he recommended. It took another half hour for the order to arrive, but between getting her television plugged in and set up, as well as her gaming console (a Wii, which she persuaded Jamie to take a crack at with her to keep him occupied), the little trio was soon gathered on the floor of her dining room, paper plates their dishware and plastic cups holding the soda she'd remembered to grab that morning before arriving. The half-pepperoni and half-sausage pizza was devoured, Steve and Jamie nearly inhaling their slices as Holly...well, she basically did the same. It was a long day, and her new neighbor was right: the pizza was good, well on its way to being delicious after a long afternoon of moving. Jamie's was cut up into little pizza bites, which he sometimes danced around on his plate before eating, his father handing him a napkin to clean up every now and again. After about the fourth slice (good Lord, where did he pack it away, Holly wondered), Steve wiped his hands with his own napkin, cleaning the corners of his mouth and announcing it was about time for him and Jamie to head on home. Bundling the last slices away into the fridge, Holly walked them over to the door, a sleepy and satisfied smile on her face.

"Thank you both for your help. Really," she said, placing her palm on Steve's bicep.

"It's no problem," he returned, his own hand coming up to cup her elbow. A crooked grin decorated his lips, and he asserted, "Always willing to lend a hand, if possible."

After a second or two, Holly dropped her hand, his own falling away at the same time. Biting her lip, she thought furiously for a few moments before her eyes flashed and she held up a single finger.

"One sec," she said, pattering back around the corner into the kitchen. After a few moments of shuffling and a muffled curse, she returned, an unopened bag of dark roast coffee and a jar of peanut butter in hand. She had picked up a few groceries to tide her over for a couple of days, but she did not want them to leave empty-handed. Not after all they'd done to help her. Pushing them into Steve's grasp, she dropped her gaze to her feet, tucking her hands into her pockets. "Don't have any beer to give out, but I hope this will be enough."

Eyeing up the coffee and the jar of peanut butter—which his son was an absolute fiend for, most days—the bigger fellow couldn't help but smile and chuckle.

"They're more than enough, thank you," he responded, his smile broadening when she returned it slowly. He felt small fingers curl around the edge of his jeans, and he glanced down at his son, tipping his head in Holly's direction. "Alright, Jamie, say good-bye, we gotta go."

"Bye," the boy said, blinking sleepily and waving at her as they started to walk to the door. Stopping on the threshold, he asked her, "See you soon?"

Holly bent at the waist, hands on her knees and her expression genuine as she nodded. "Yeah, see you soon, kiddo."

"Welcome to the building, Holly," Steve said, his own farewell given as he lifted the hand bearing the coffee and shook it. Her tempered laugh was the last thing they heard as the door to 207 closed behind them. Jamie didn't move for a couple seconds, instead staring at the panels and releasing a slow breath. Bending, Steve passed him the jar of peanut butter, a light pat on his back propelling the youngster towards their own home. "C'mon, buddy. How about we watch that dragon movie you like before bed, huh?"

Big brown eyes blinked up at him as they walked. "With a cookie?"

Tipping his head back, Steve pretended to give the matter deep thought.

"Well, you were a big help today. Sure, you can have a cookie, too," he pronounced, the little boy swinging the jar of peanut butter happily in renewed excitement. A finger came up then, and Steve pointed at his son, drawing his attention back onto him. " _One_ cookie."

"Okay," the boy agreed, content in the deal that had been struck and saying no more as his daddy dug a set of keys from his pocket. As Steve unlocked the door, Jamie pulled himself up to his full height and proclaimed, "Holly's nice. I like her. Don't you, Daddy?"

As he opened the door to their apartment, he cast a long look down the hall, to the door on the opposite side. Sighing softly, he tucked his keys back into his pocket and dropped his gaze to his feet as his boy breezed by, heading straight to the television set to select his favorite movie.

"Yeah, yeah, I do," he murmured quietly, patting his palm against the doorjamb a couple of times before going inside, their own door swinging shut behind him.

* * *

 **A/N:** Oh, look. Another modern AU project involving Steve/Holly. I can't be stopped, y'all.

This was another idea that jumped up and bit me a few months ago, and I want to give it a shot. I have been in a Dad!Steve sort of mode, and trust me, that can be a little hard to shake. So, we're starting a new adventure. This is a different universe than the _Of Time_ series, and the _Four Seasons_ universe, just for reference. Posts will be sporadic, as I will be focusing mainly on my _Of Times_ series stories (finishing up _In Due Course_ and then moving onto the next story there). I will do my best to keep up with this one as well. It is a modern AU, which means no superpowers and such things. Steve is in his post-serum body for this (one day, I will do a pre-serum Steve story...someday), and it is also a Steve/OC eventual romance story. If none of that is your cup of tea, then I wish you well on your future reading endeavors. For those of you who want to give this a shot, well...here ya go.

Any mentioned streets, neighborhoods, or restaurants in Washington, D.C. were researched online, as I have never been to the city before. Just trying my best.

I also have a Twitter account specifically for story updates, which I will be doing for this story as well. My handle is **PhanProTweets**.

Lastly, this work is UNBETA'ED. This is mostly due to my personal schedule being a little different from others'. As such, I do proofread, edit, and restructure my own writing. I try my best, but I am not perfect.

I own nothing from the MCU, nor do I own any other pop culture references made in the text (Marvel comics, etc.).

Thanks for reading, please review, and I'll see you all for the next one!


	2. Chapter 2

After a weekend filled with combing through the furniture stores and thrift shops around Washington, D.C., Holly's apartment was starting to look like a home (even if it didn't feel like it just yet). As she swore to herself, she did have a mattress by Saturday, along with a box spring, frame, and headboard—she was thanking her lucky stars for the Mattress Warehouse on Wisconsin Avenue as she trundled the lot back to the building. Further hunting around the neighborhood had landed her a great table for the dining room, with two benches for it, and a television stand to house everything. Unfortunately, the couch she'd hoped to have would not be delivered until the next week, nor was she able to find bookshelves she liked, but that would come soon enough. She made due with a camp chair until that happened, and was content with her lot.

When the first Monday rolled around, she felt the butterflies in her stomach spring and hatch new swarms every few minutes as she got up and got ready. Out the door she went, sipping at her travel mug and hoping the coffee would be enough to subdue her anxiety as she made her way down to the car. Though the job itself wouldn't be new to her, she was going to be in a new place, with different people. As she sat in traffic that morning, she was mulling over what it would be like once she got there. It was like starting school for the first time, or as least it felt like it.

Parking in the neighborhood where her office was ended up being crazy, and she ended up having to take a stall at a great distance from the front door. Still, she'd made it on time, and she reported straight away to Human Resources to fill out the remainder of her paperwork. With the final sheets filled out and her temporary pass given (her full ID card would be handed to her once everything was processed in the next few days), she was guided through the checkpoints and up the stairs.

Hill's Books, a bookstore chain that was established roughly twenty-some years prior, expanding itself to include other forms of media and establishing itself as a competitor of other chains. Even with the advent of digital books and eReaders, the company was thriving, seeking to expand even further than it already had. However, despite the branch being in D.C., it was not the headquarters. No the D.C. branch was doing decently, but had not been attended to in awhile. The current manager was desperate to change that, to bring it up to par with the New York and L.A. branches, and she knew they had to start with the advertising. And advertising those days revolved greatly around how one marketed themselves on social media. Which, as a market, was ever-changing and a necessity.

Passing through the dull white halls and the maple-colored doors of the private offices, Holly was actually glad for that necessity. It meant that her job wouldn't be erased any time soon, at the very least.

Up another flight of stairs and down another hall she went, the door at the end opened upon something she was not expecting. The office space was roughly the size of a small studio apartment, the door just barely missing the arm of the overstuffed gray couch. A multicolored throw was along the back, clashing with the deep blue rug on the floor. A small table with a microwaved and mini-fridge tucked beneath it was crammed into a corner, and an empty desk and chair was wedged along the wall. The walls themselves were a warm tan, but by the second desk, the color had all but disappeared beneath the collage of photos and article clippings. At that desk was another young woman about her age, her brown hair pulled up into a high ponytail and her body swathed in a maroon sweater dress. When she turned to face the newcomers, her eyes brightened a tad beneath her square-framed glasses, her smile broad as the HR representative introduced them as coworkers. The girl was her superior in the social media management department, and they would be sharing the space. Nodding in comprehension, Holly was a bit surprised to find herself left alone then with her, without any further comment made. Clutching her work bag in one hand and the employee handbook in the other, she faced the other girl once more.

"Welcome to the show," said the new brunette as she rose from her seat. As she adjusted her glasses, she hooked a thumb at the set-up around them. "And by show, I mean this cramped back corner with the couch and single coffee maker."

Taking in the overstuffed couch once more, Holly couldn't help but smirk.

"It looks bangin'," she stated quietly, earning a grin from her new office mate. Tucking her handbook under one arm and extending her hand, she introduced herself. "I'm Holly Martin."

"Darcy Lewis," was the response, Darcy shaking her hand firmly before heading over to the couch. "Good to meet you, Holl. Well, I assume you've got an idea of how the social media aspect of the job works."

As she plopped down onto the cushions, Holly was unsure whether she should follow her. Taking a few tentative steps closer, she nodded at Darcy's assumption.

"And a bit of the managing, too," she asserted, gesturing to the couch. When Darcy nodded for her to sit, she held up her bag, removing her laptop and placing it on her knees to fire it up. "Given that was the description of the job."

Lewis gave her a wry smirk, inclining her head.

"Cool. Well, since we're working together, let's get this show on the road. This branch is doing well enough, but with all the promotions and holidays and other random crap thrown in on the calendar, they're looking to stay ahead with all that. And, amazing as I can be, I can't do it all on my own. Plus, the counterpoint is kinda necessary to stay fresh."

"I completely understand," Holly said, accessing the folder on her laptop that held files of her previous work and opening the first page. "I'm up for it."

She handed it to the other brunette woman, her avid eyes riveted to the screen as she took in the revamped web pages she'd helped configure, screenshots of the Facebook pages, Twitter accounts, and even Instagram accounts she helped control. Clicking through them with alacrity, Darcy let out a low whistle; the other girl beside her definitely knew her stuff, given the flow of the pages and the quality of information listed on them, as well as the improvements that had come with the territory. After several minutes, she looked up at her, her smile wide and bright.

"Awesome."

Working with Darcy provided a vibrancy and enthusiasm all her own. Much of the first week was spent getting to know one another, to make sure they would be a good fit. After about three days, the two were getting along well. Holly brought a form of pragmatism and forethought that some might have thought Darcy was lacking, and the other woman influenced her in taking chances on a few mock schemes and presentations. In the course of working, they were bound to get to know one another. In exchange for telling her about her life back in Minnesota, Holly asked after Darcy's. Though the young woman had initially started off in college as a political science major, she soon found herself drawn to marketing and social media. She was always on it, as many of her generation were, so why not utilize it in some way? Eventually, after slogging through some truly heinous jobs (including a return to waitressing, which she actively despised), she'd landed her position at Hill's Books a year before Holly had arrived. And she was struggling; having the fresh blood was a godsend, in her opinion. Holly, who had been a little nervous that she would be stepping on toes or annoying the other woman with her employment and contributions soon discovered that was not the case. Over the weeks, the two were eager to formulate plans to counteract the decline in website traffic and fix the brand awareness in the area. Yes, Hill's Books was a good chain, but it needed more and better exposure than it'd had in the last five years, particularly in Washington, D.C. Much of it came from redesigning the local website, from top to bottom. As well as that, their social media platforms for the branch was stalled, and the young women were pleased to pitch ideas back and forth to one another in between ordering take-out for lunch or taking calls from some retailers the company was involved with. It would take time, but they would find a way to put a fresh face on everything.

Over the next few weeks as she settled into her new city and new job, Holly occasionally saw the neighbors who had helped her move in. Steve and Jamie often got home around the same time she did, the three of them crossing paths either in the hall or at the bank of mailboxes by the main lobby. They'd walk together, Jamie telling Holly about the games he played at daycare, the friends he spoke to, and what the caretaker had imparted upon him, and she listened to him, nodding and prompting him to tell her what he learned. Sometimes, when the little guy was tired from his day, Steve was able to speak, too, the adults able to exchange comments about work and their colleagues as they went. Tired smiles were passed among them, even when Steve was carrying a napping Jamie home from the car and they walked together in an almost companionable silence. At her door, they separated, good-byes exchanged as they went. Holly always felt a little sad to see them go, but in those early days, she often was too exhausted to think about doing anything more than wishing them a good night. It was too bad; though the other neighbors she'd run into around the building weren't bad people, they had not reached out like Steve and Jamie had. She liked them, and hoped that they would be able to be on good terms for the future.

It was the most she could hope for, she thought to herself once before going to bed. She hoped they could all be friends, at least.

In the middle of her third week in D.C., she found herself returning from work on her own. Neither of the Rogers fellows were in sight when she picked up her mail, and she shrugged it off. Upon arriving upstairs, she locked up and shucked off her work clothes, changing into stuff she felt comfortable lounging around in. Plucking up her well-worn copy of _The Lord of the Rings_ from the bookshelf after dinner (she finally found a set of buildable ones from a box chain store, using the two of them to frame her television set-up), she plugged her headphones into the jack on her phone and put her music on shuffle, decompressing from the day with musicals and Middle-earth.

Just as Frodo and the other hobbits accompanying him had been taken to stay at Tom Bombadil's house—and she was mentally preparing herself for that pleasant bit of literature—she found herself reaching for a nonexistent cup on the coffee table she'd salvaged the weekend prior. Coming up empty, she tutted under her breath as she mentally reviewed what she had to drink in the house. Thirsty as she was, she did not just want a simple cup of water. She wanted something a bit sweeter, with a bit of a kick. After a few moments, she recalled that her building had soda machines in the basement, updated with credit card scanners. Relieved she wouldn't have to make a special trip to the grocery store just because she didn't wish to drink milk or coffee at that hour, she nearly bounced on the balls of her feet as she exited her apartment to get her drink.

The basement of her building was home to the two laundry rooms for the entire block, one at each end. In the middle were the community room, which had a nice televisions set-up and comfortable seating (not to mention free WiFi for tenants, which she'd utilized in the early days), and the work-out room. The work-out room was nice enough, she supposed, with its treadmills and stationary bikes, and the scary-looking weight set settled by a bunch of other equipment she'd never used in her life. However, those particular contents of the room did not interest her in that moment. No, the soda machines were in there, and as she passed the frosted glass of the room to the door, she was eager to partake. Swinging it open, she hadn't paid attention to the whirring and thumping coming from inside; her concentration was on something else entirely.

Or it was, until she entered the room.

"Oh!" she gasped quietly, stopping short just over the threshold. Despite it being early in the evening, she hadn't thought there would be any gym bunnies in the room at that hour. Most of them seemed to gravitate towards the room in the very early morning or very late at night. In that instance, it seemed, she was proven wrong.

Proven very wrong, by the sight of her neighbor running hard on the second treadmill in the room, arms pumping along with his legs. Steve was not exactly the person she'd thought she'd run into down there—although, given the strength he'd had in moving her belongings into her apartment and the clear outline of his build, she chided herself for not thinking that required work and upkeep. No, she'd thought he'd be with Jamie, or else work out somewhere else. Clearly, that was not the case.

With the pumping of his legs and arms, and the sleeveless shirt torn at the side, she found herself to be very glad that wasn't the case.

He stared down at the monitor on the treadmill, very much in the zone and unaware of the new presence as he ran. The peace of the moment, along with her ogling (which she would definitely smack herself for falling into later), was lost as the heavy door to the room slammed shut, making her jump and him look over in confusion. Gulping in a big breath of air, she managed a wan smile and hooked her thumb silently back at the door, an apology mumbled as her other hand clenched hard around her credit card. For his part, Steve didn't appear disturbed, or annoyed even, by her appearance there. Rather, he grinned at her, tapping at the display on the treadmill and inhaling sharply as the loud beeps of it echoed out.

"Hi, there," he greeted her, alternating between taking deep breaths of air and drinking from the water bottle perched in a cup holder. The whir of the treadmill beneath his feet had slowed, bringing him into a cool-down, she supposed.

"Hi..." she responded, feeling the burn in her face and her gaze rocketed up to a point over his head. If she hadn't, she would've started staring at his legs next, and the thought of that made her blush more. Perhaps she could blame it on the temperature of the room; even with the oscillating fan running in the corner, it wasn't cool in there. Shrugging a shoulder, she let a small chuckle blurt out. "Um, I didn't know anybody else was in here, I would've..."

His grin didn't waver even as he gestured with the bottle at the rest of the room. "Well, public space, you can go where you like."

"Right, right," she replied, dipping a nod. Clearing her throat, she took a few steps closer to the machine he was on, flicking her fingers at it and then him. "So...runner, huh?"

 _'Did you seriously just say that? Oh, God, kill me now,'_ her brain spat up at her, and she visibly winced at her obviousness. Humming lightly, Steve returned the nod, dropping the water bottle back into the holder as he continued to match pace on the machine.

"Kind of. I've done a couple races." He shrugged at that, explaining that it had been mostly half-marathons, with the rare full every couple of years. Nodding to where a couple of the heaviest hand weights were left resting on the floor, he continued, "Helps to balance the weight training. I mostly picked up both when I served."

"You were in the army? I thought you were a graphic designer," she supplied then surprised by his admission. So he wasn't just a work-out addict; he had a basis for what he was doing, and continuing to do.

"Had to pay for the schooling somehow," he explained, smirking down at her. The corners of his eyes had crinkled as he did so, and she couldn't help but smile back at him. The sharp beeps of the machine resounded once more, and the rotating strip under his shoes finally stopped. Inadvertently, he tripped up, taking an unnecessary step and stumbling into the display. It was hard to tell, but it appeared that his face was even redder than it had been before (she wasn't about to put money on it, though, given how hot and sweaty his face was). Coughing once, a weak laugh coursed out of him as he stepped off the machine, tapping a palm on one of the side handles. "Anyway, uh, the treadmill's all yours if you want it."

Holly snorted loudly at that. Jerking her head down to glance over her attire, she couldn't think that he honestly thought she was there to work out. Not in flip flops, ragged cut-offs, and an old, stretched sweater of her brother's that she'd stolen. Realizing how silly his offer was about a half second after he'd spoken, Steve had laughed again, ducking his head that time.

"I only run in emergencies or if I need to steal second," Holly murmured, and upon spotting his rising eyebrow, she supplied, "I played softball in middle and high school. I'm not really down here for that, anyway."

He swiped ineffectually at his forehead, his breath becoming more and more regulated. "What are you here for, then?"

Smiling sheepishly, she pointed behind him, to the two soda dispensers along the far wall.

"Pop machine's in here, and I don't have any upstairs," she explained, brandishing her credit card then.

"Gotcha," he returned, looking over his shoulder. A thought occurred to him then, and he quirked his jaw. "Huh."

"What?" she wondered, curious what was bringing the look of humor to his face.

He lifted a shoulder, flapping a hand through the air. "Just struck me how both ends of the fitness spectrum are crammed into this one room. I dunno, thought it was funny."

"Oh, yeah," she laughed, struck by the observation, too. Nodding once, she started a mocking conversation that she felt had to be a sell with the owners of the building. "'You wanna be fit? No? You want a sugar rush instead? Either way, we have it all in the basement.'"

To her relief and delight, Steve chuckled at her words (even if she felt he'd done it more out of obligation, most likely; she knew how lame it sounded even to her ears). Shaking her head, she crossed the room then, up to the first machine. It had the Dr. Pepper that she'd been randomly craving, and she was feeling pretty good about getting it. Well, she had been until she swiped her card through the scanner and nothing happened. Frowning, she concentrated on the machine then, nearly forgetting the presence stretching his limbs a few feet away as she attempted to clean the strip and try again. Letting out a frustrated sigh, she was about to just head out to her car and go to the store—despite her earlier resolve not to—when the presence reasserted itself. Steve stepped up beside her, close enough that the heat his body had generated from the workout was practically rolling onto her. Straightening, she looked at him in question, the heat under the stretched collar of the sweater climbing again.

"Here, the scanner's a little finicky," he said, taking her card and swiping it with a slight jerk. Finally, the machine registered the swipe, prompting her for her choice. However, she was a little busy blinking at him and letting her eyebrows climb. Snickering, Steve tapped the side of the machine and shot her a knowing look. "What, you thought you were the only one to use it?"

Taking her card back and hitting the button for the Dr. Pepper, she shook her head. "Sorry, just...you don't seem like you go for sugar and stuff."

An audible scoff ripped out of Steve then, and he raked his fingers back through his hair. "Trust me, the way I've had to eat over the past few years, in between deadlines and raising a kid, running and lifting have had to be the countermeasures to all the junk I've digested."

At that moment, the pop, as she called it, had thumped down into the opening at the bottom, and she bent to retrieve it. As she did so, she let her dark gaze wander over him then.

"Good job." It slipped out of her mouth before she could stop herself, and her eyes went impossibly wide when she realized she'd blurted that out loud. Granted, it wasn't exactly what she was thinking; in her opinion, the hours and days he'd spent on himself had gone beyond 'good.' Still, it was one thing to think it, and another to say it. Mortified, she snapped back up, pointedly keeping her gaze on the bottle in her hands and opening it.

"Thanks," Steve replied, unknowingly looking her over, too. She may not have been a runner, or there for a work-out, but he didn't mind at all. Before he had the chance to really examine that thought, she took a fast sip from her bottle, meeting his gaze again when she finished.

"Speaking of the little guy, where is he?" she inquired, giving voice to the particular question that had been nagging at the back of her mind for awhile. Opening his mouth, a loud crackle was ground out, and both of them turned their heads in its direction. It seemed to be coming from the treadmill, and Holly briefly wondered if the high-tech treadmill could actually pick up radio waves or something, until a familiar voice projected from it.

"Daddy, you done yet?" Jamie Rogers called out, his father glancing at the woman beside him before striding back to the treadmill. Reaching into the second cup holder, he held up a black and red walkie-talkie, twitching it between his fingers for emphasis when he looked back at Holly.

"A friend of mine stops by a couple times a week to watch him so I can keep up with it. And even then, kid's got me by walkie-talkie." Depressing the button on the side, he lifted it close to his mouth and answered his son's question. "Yes, bud, I just got done."

A short crackle followed, and the two adults in the room shared a small smile before Jamie spoke again.

"Good," he said. Instead of letting his button go for Steve to answer, he urgently asked, "Can I have apple juice and cookies when you come back?"

The blond man let an eyebrow rise at thin air. Holly, fiddling with the cap of her soda bottle, inwardly wagered that this was a question he got in different variations in the past, if the weary amusement on his features was anything to go by.

"Are you asking because Uncle Sam told you no?" he countered, blue eyes riveted to the red and black device in his hand. Silence reigned for several long moments before the crackle came over the line again.

"...I dunno," Jamie told him, sounding guilty even to Holly's ears. She bit her lips to smother the giggle that wanted to course out of her, and mostly succeeded. However, she could not stop the smile pulling at the corners of her mouth, nor could she hide it in time for Steve to not spot it when he glanced over at her again. She cupped a hand to her mouth and focused on a far corner of the room. Steve sighed, and depressed the button again.

"Apple juice, yes; cookies, no."

"But, Daaaaaddy—" Jamie immediately crowed back, the button his end released and the loud crackling cut-off coming through. Quickly, Steve answered him back.

"You can have a peanut butter log instead."

Holly tipped her head, enthralled by the exchange between father and son. She was almost tempted to interrupt, to ask if her gift to them was really about to be used as a counteroffer, when the young boy's voice came back.

"No raisins?" he asked, a bit of hesitance in it. Steve, most likely out of habit, shook his head before returning the answer.

"No raisins, I promise," he said, Jamie's resounding cheer and bidding him to hurry upstairs the last word on the subject. With the conversation decidedly over, Holly smirked to herself as Steve clipped the walkie-talkie to the band of his shorts, the empty water bottle in hand and withdrawing his keys from his pocket. Holly, thinking that farewells were about to be passed, was pulled up short when he cleared his throat a couple of times. Gesturing at the door, he wondered, "Well, uh, if you're not busy, would you, um, like to come up and have one, too?"

Blinking, she was a little taken aback by his offer.

"You sure there will be enough for me, between the two of you?" she responded, softening it with a slight grin. He returned it, his bright blue eyes glittering with something that she could not name.

"I'm sure. You have your choice of with or without raisins," he told her, sweetening the pot.

Holly tapped a finger against her chin, pretending to ponder the offer for another few seconds. Eventually, she shrugged, cupping a hand in the air.

"How could I pass that up?" Smiling, she followed Steve out the door and up to their floor, striding past her place to his. A bundle of nerves had solidified in her stomach as she waited for him to open the door, but she forced herself to work past it as she stepped into the place.

Steve and Jamie's apartment, just due to layout alone, was different from hers. The two-bedroom models were nice, the flow of the structured to facilitate ease between rooms, and she could see that was worked with. They had a nice, dark blue couch, a model with one of the extended loungers at one end, facing a good quality high-definition television and entertainment system. That, however was the end of the adult furniture in the room. A three-tier stand holding buckets of games and toys stood under the far window, and a play table with paper and a big box of crayons pushed into the corner. There even was a weaved play-mat on the floor bearing a city scene complete with streets and buildings. On the walls of it and the dining room were pictures, multiples of Jamie from his baby stage up until then. A few photographs of New York City lined the wall by the dining table, shots of the Brooklyn Bridge and some of the buildings in Manhattan in black frames. A couple of others featured people she didn't recognize, including one of Steve when he was younger (much younger, she supposed, given how small and skinny he appeared in it) with a brunet boy near the same age.

Her quick scan yielded much, but not all, and she knew that what she'd subconsciously looked for was not likely to be there. Choosing to roll over her musings, she merely went along with him as he announced their entrance.

Upon her arrival, she found herself being drawn into the living room, Jamie having charged the door when he realized his daddy had brought another visitor over. Stepping gingerly around the Hot Wheels cars that had been left there, she glanced back over her shoulder at Steve, smiling as he smirked at his son's eagerness. With a nod, he gestured towards the kitchen, and she nodded, letting him go while Jamie asked her to sit down while he grabbed more toys. Uncle Sam (or, as he introduced himself, Sam Wilson) was there, too; he'd been kicked back on the lounger, but was upright from the moment Jamie pulled her into the room.

Shifting on his seat to get closer to her, he held out his hand, names and greetings exchanged. The African-American man across from her began to explain that he'd known Steve through school. Evidently they'd gone to the same college, but lost touch when they both went into service: Steve with the Army and Sam with the Air Force. They'd reconnected through the VA after the former's move to the area, and he was now a go-to babysitter. He said that with a light tone, despite the mock irritation on his face. It was clear how much he enjoyed hanging out with Jamie, given how the youngster would often peel off to engage him a joke, or pass him one of his cars between talking.

Of course, he had questions about her, too, and she answered those to the best of her ability as she drank from her soda bottle. His dark eyes seemed to gleam a bit as she spoke, particularly about how she'd gotten tangled up with the Rogers boys. Relaying the tale about the moving company and her hallway rescuers coming to her aid, he'd chuckled, muttering something about the hero complex in Steve surfacing. She'd shrugged that off, as the hero complex was worth having if it meant she wasn't stuck on her own that afternoon. Imploring him to tell a bit about their college days, the other man smiled broadly, a decidedly mischievous twist to his lips as he drummed up a few. Steve himself would comment from the kitchen, pitching his own perspective on a few of them as he worked.

Just as Sam was deep in the telling of a night out with Steve that involved a Yankees cap, a bottle of Fireball whiskey, and a painted wooden duck, the blond man returned, cutting him off with a sharp glare and a discreet punch to the arm as he set down the plate of snacks. Sitting down on her other side, he gestured at the plate with a flourish. As promised, there were peanut butter logs, the celery loaded with the peanut butter and raisins on all but four of the stalks. As well as that, he'd had time to sneak off and change into a proper t-shirt, his face wiped clean of sweat.

Happily, Jamie picked up a couple of the plain stalks (his dad passing him an apple juice box as well), chowing down on them as he began to tell Holly about the new book his daddy got for him for bedtime. Asking after it, she showed delight in the title; she'd always liked the books about _Clifford the Big Red Dog_ as a child, and she concluded that the boy was going to love them, too. The conversation continued to flow, and before she knew it, Holly had been at the Rogers apartment for a couple of hours. Night had descended, and Jamie was yawning more often than not. Understanding that Steve would need to get Jamie into bed soon, she had stood, saying that it was time for her to head down the hall herself and square away a few things of her own before sleeping. The little boy gave her a high-five in farewell, saying that he would tell her all about Clifford the next time he saw her. Sam waved to her from the couch as she began to walk to the door, and he smothered a snort as Steve insisted on walking her over.

"Thanks, Steve. This was fun," she told him, patting his arm fondly. "And for your help earlier with the scanner. I would've been lost without the pop."

He smiled at that, whether at her teasing tone or her use of 'pop', she was unsure. Still, she wouldn't retract her statement, or the grin that had gone with it.

"It was. And like I said, always glad to help," he told her, a bashful lilt on his lips as he looked at her. Her brow furrowed, in that way she did that he was gradually learning indicated strong consideration. After a few seconds, she asked him for a piece of paper and a pen. Quickly, he complied, a piece of specialty list paper gotten from the pad on the fridge and a crayon from Jamie's table. Using the door as a writing surface, she scrawled something out swiftly, handing all back to him.

Tucking the crayon into his pocket and unfolding the paper, he let his eyebrows incline.

"What's this?" he asked, though he knew full well what those ten digits were.

"My number," she stated. Combing a couple of loose strands behind her ear, she confessed, "I like having my friends being able to reach me."

Something in his smile changed, becoming a touch stronger as he dipped his chin.

"...Okay, then." Pulling his phone out of his pocket, he punched in the numbers. Her phone vibrated in her own pocket, and she jumped a little. Retrieving it, she snickered when he hit the End Call button on his device, her screen showing a hang-up. Pointing to it, he murmured softly, "And there's mine."

It wasn't until after the good-nights were said and Holly had left that Sam fully smirked, waiting for Steve to return to the couch before showing it. When Steve looked at him fully, the other man gestured to the phone perched in the blond's hand.

"Smooth, Rogers," he complimented him, tipping his head toward the front door. The corners of Steve's mouth turned down, though the brightness in his irises had not dulled.

"Shuddup, Sam," he muttered back, rising when Jamie toddled over and tugged on his hand, telling him he was ready for bed and his book then. Leaving Sam to his private musings—and the sports channel that he'd just flicked on—he assented to his son's wishes, ready to help him finish the day. Unconsciously, he fiddled the device that was still between his fingers, a small spark of something lighting in his chest as he went.

* * *

 **A/N:** A little look into Holly's first day, and her next major encounter with the neighbors down the hall. Fun times for all.

Yes, I did make Darcy Lewis her coworker. I have no regrets! It's a shame that the MCU has not found more for her to do; she's so sassy and fun. And of course, Sam Wilson is always a treat, too.

The soda machine in the work-out room is based on my own apartment building. Sadly, I have yet to stumble across anyone Steve Rogers-esque when I've gone in there, but maybe one day...

Just as a reminder: I do have a Twitter I do story updates on: PhanProTweets.

Lastly, today (7/30/17) commemorates my tenth year as a writer for this site. And this is how I choose to celebrate. New chapter, hurray! I'm so excited to have gotten this far, and I'm excited for all that I've yet to do. Yay!

I own nothing from the MCU, nor do I own any other pop culture references made in the text (Marvel comics, Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, _The Lord of the Rings, Clifford the Big Red Dog,_ Dr. Pepper, etc.).

Thanks for reading, please review, and I'll see you all for the next one!


	3. Chapter 3

Two and a half months in Washington, D.C., and Holly was starting to feel it: the homesickness that she had been pushing down for weeks.

The rush and press of the first days had given way to the solidity and rigors of a schedule, everything beginning to fall into place as she settled. Once the pieces of the puzzle began to fit together, she was able to notice the cracks left over. After all, it wasn't as though she'd merely moved to a new place; she'd left the old behind. And the old contained her family. As much as she tried to assuage the small blips of fear and loneliness with phone calls and video chats, it still remained that she was very much on her own out there. And she knew she had no one to blame but herself for it. She'd wanted the chance, the opportunity, to do more than she had since graduating college, and she'd found it out there. There wasn't any real regret in her decision to follow through, but she couldn't help but miss what she'd left behind. Her mother and father, her brother with his daughter, and her sister with her own family...it was difficult.

And that difficulty, shoved away during meetings and mock-ups, chats in the hall and shared texts between new friends, had decided to rear its head one Saturday morning.

Holly had woken up tangled in her bedding, her heart thudding against the escaping tendrils of a dream that she had forgotten the details of upon rising. Scrubbing her face, she slid out of bed, pushing the brown waves of her hair out of her face as she wandered over to her dresser (the last of her furniture finds, cherry-colored wood and smooth despite the age of it) tapping her thumb along the top as she glanced down at the framed photos there. Amidst the snapshots of her friends from back home, she lingered upon the one of her dad getting her brother in a headlock, moving onto the one with her mom holding all three grandchildren in her lap while her sister looked on. Her chest seemed to tighten that morning as she looked at them, the reminder of her home being far from her making it so. Letting out a short breath, she began to root through the drawers, withdrawing a long-sleeved tee and pants to wear.

Heading back to her nightstand and checking her phone, she felt another wave of disheartening sadness crest inside her. No calls missed, no text messages, no emails. She didn't even have any social media notifications. Her thumb moved over the screen, tapping around to double-check the messages. Just the ones from the previous few days remained on the screen, including a closing comment to her mother in which both wished each to have a good weekend and a random picture sent to her brother and sister. There was one to Darcy about bringing in some music to work to on Monday, and the most recent sent to Steve, hoping he and Jamie would have a good weekend. (Ever since they'd traded numbers, they'd been keeping in touch fairly regularly, which brought a small smile to her lips when she thought about it.) Nothing from that morning, and she didn't think that would change. Sighing aloud, she tucked the device into her pocket before scooping up her clothes and going into the bathroom to get ready. Showered and dressed early for a Saturday, she made her way out the door, intent on at least getting herself supplied for the weekend.

After intense driving to and from the store (traffic didn't let up, especially on the weekend), she stocked up her cupboards and refrigerator, flopping onto her couch afterward. She stared at her books and television for a long while, neither holding any appeal. Fiddling with the cell phone in her pocket, she eventually withdrew it, biting her lip as she considered her options. She did not want to be inside all day, stewing in her emotions and sadness. Her thumb bounced along the screen, debating on who to reach out to. Darcy, she knew, would most likely not even be awake—she took her weekend sleep seriously. But, well...there was Steve, and Jamie.

Something inside her, something closely resembling nervousness, coursed along her veins. Even with the extended conversation between them via text and meetings at the mailbox, she didn't want to impose on his time with his son. The little boy was practically his father's shadow, and it was clear how much Steve delighted in being with Jamie. The youngest years were precious, all the more so given that Steve had to spend so much time working and his son had to be in daycare during that time. Heather, her sister, had similar lamentations when she had to return to teaching full-time and leaving her boys with another. She hadn't forgotten those, and she didn't want to step on any toes.

Still, she couldn't help but want to at least reach out. Holly, over the past couple of months, could feel Steve and Jamie growing on her. The boy seemed to always have a wave and happy smile on his face when he saw her, and his father was easy to talk to. It didn't seem to matter what topic they were on; stupid jokes, funny pictures found on the Internet to be shared, they were getting along so well through it all. He was a friend to her, and she to him, she felt. Why shouldn't one friend reach out to another?

Only if they were in the building, she decided inwardly, tapping out a message. Only if they were at home would she see if they would be up for a visitor. Otherwise, she'd leave the pair alone. Within a few minutes, her phone vibrated in hand, Steve telling her that they were outside on the playground, and she was welcome to join them for a little while. An unbidden grin tugged at her lips, lifting her malaise for a few seconds. Not in the building, but not far at all. She could do that. Her shoes were on and she was out the door before she thought too much harder on the subject, descending the back stairs to get to them.

Outside the apartment complex was a small playground, perfect for the few families in the building. It consisted of monkey bars that led up to the first platform, and a small bridge connected it to the second with the slides. A plexiglass window had been placed on one, and the other had a driver's wheel attached. It had proven a favorite with so many of the kids, and it was hardly ever empty. At that moment, though, it appeared that most of the families were either out or choosing other activities to try out that day. That was just fine with her, and given the playful cries coming from the equipment, the current occupants were pleased, as well. She paused beside one of the benches near the edge of the wood chips covering the ground, sitting as she watched Jamie play with his father. Broad smiles passed between the two, the boy stamping along and shouting at the older man, insisting that he would be defeated. Steve shook his head, roaring when prompted and charging around the platform, obeying the rule of not coming up when his son told him not to. The sight touched something in her heart, and she lowered her head, closing her eyes briefly.

"Holly!" At the shout of her name, Holly fully looked up, and her grin was tenuous at best when she did. Little Jamie Rogers had spotted her, sitting like a bump on a log staring into space. Affixing her pleasant expression, she waved at him, which he took as a signal to run over. Steve took a few steps toward her as well, his own smile waning as he noticed the bend of her posture and the flatness in her gaze. Opening his mouth, she knew he was about to call Jamie back, but she preempted him with a slight shake of the head.

She wouldn't put off the little guy just because of her sour mood. Silently, Steve gave her a nod back, his mouth closing as he leaned against one of the platforms and waited.

"Hey, kiddo," she said instead when Jamie got to the bench, forcing her smile into place. As he got closer, the young boy's answering smile drooped slightly. His brown gaze raked over her face, and he blinked up at her.

"Are you sad? You look sad," he wondered, reaching out a hand and patting her arm. Her forced grin deepened slightly; his sweetness pushed back the clouds in her mind, at least a little. Carefully, she shook her head, her fingers tapping lightly against his.

"I'm not sad, I just...had a long day," she tried to explain, not sure if talking about her homesickness would do any good.

Jamie's small brow furrowed as he thought about her words. "But it's morning. Day's not over yet."

"I know," she sighed, the forlorn edge coming back to her voice. Clearing her throat, she determined to keep her attention on the boy, tapping his shoulder. "So how are you?"

"Good," he announced decisively, his grin returning despite the serious crease of his brow. When she stated that she was glad he was, he merely nodded. Suddenly, he inhaled deeply, his smaller hands grasping at her wrist, the excitement of his quick thoughts driving him. "You wanna play with me and Daddy?"

He pointed back at the playground, to the bars and platforms connected to one another. She met Steve's gaze as he watched his son speak with her. His grin was steady, but his bright eyes fastened on her face, as though he were just as concerned with what could be wrong. She felt heat burn her cheeks, and she looked back at Jamie, dipping her chin in a nod.

"Sure. For a few minutes," she agreed, rising from her seat on the bench. It couldn't hurt, she had figured, and it probably allow her mind to get off the ache inside. The young child whooped happily, grabbing her hand and towing her along as he tried to run back to the wood chip-covered area.

"Daddy! Holly's gonna play with us," he told the older man, letting go of her as soon as they were close enough. Steve's blue eyes glinted with the warm sunlight, cocking his head to the left as she approached the playground set. Evidently, her agreed-upon arrival had been kept a secret, and she raised her eyebrows, determined not to say a word about it.

"You sure about this, Holl?" Steve asked her, not unkindly. Gesturing to where his son had run to, he murmured, "Once you're in, you can't get out of it easily."

The light in her brown eyes started to return, piece by piece, and she snickered lightly as she sized up the platforms.

"I don't expect anything to be easy," Holly riposted lowly. Flicking her gaze back at him, she let the corners of her mouth curve higher. "I'm in."

Accepting her word, he stepped forward, offering her his hand as to help her up the nearest platform. Taking it, the brush of his skin against hers was soon replaced by the feel of warming plastic and metal. Ducking, she soon climbed to the top of one platform, watching as Jamie rooted around for a few more seconds before charging back toward the playground.

"Daddy's a dragon, I'm a knight, and you can be the princess," he explained, holding up a pair of sticks and allowing his father to hoist him up onto the lowest platform. Holly wrinkled her nose at that, leaning her elbows against the green plastic wall as he climbed up beside her.

"Can I be a princess that fights? Like Princess Leia?" she countered, shooting Steve a wink over his son's head. His eyebrow had spiked, but his smirk widened at her suggestion. She tipped her chin up proudly; she would definitely not apologize for her love of _Star Wars_ , nor her admiration for the rebel princess.

"Yeah!" Jamie crowed readily, hopping up and down. Holding out one of the sticks to her, he proclaimed, "Here's your sword."

Taking it, she bowed her head to him. "Thank you, Sir Knight."

Thus armed, Jamie waved his 'sword' at him. "Okay, the dragon can come at the castle now!"

Steve chortled under his breath, hooking a thumbs up before backing up a bit. "Gotcha."

From there, the princess and the knight put up a valiant fight against the dragon intent on taking their castle. The fair-haired child dipped and ducked around the many "fireballs" and "huge lava rocks" the dragon lobbed their way, while the brunette woman ordered their imaginary army to attack as she defended the keep. Unfortunately, when she backed up to the edge of one side, preparing to climb down the short ladder and meet the knight for an attack, she found herself caught. The dragon, all bright eyes and teeth drawn into a playful smirk, snatched her just as her foot hit the wood chips, hauling her into his solid heat. She struggled for a bit, short pockets of giggles erupting in her throat as she tried to call for aid, but she was still held hostage. When Holly kicked her feet up one last time, Steve maintained his hold, chuckling darkly.

"What are you gonna do now, Princess?" he murmured, arms banding around her waist and holding her back against him. The joking title came out more as a breath than a challenge, her stomach suddenly fluttering as the words grazed along her ear. Flicking a glance over her shoulder, she swallowed hard as steely irises looked back, softening after a second or two.

"Just..." she trailed off, one hand brushing along his arm. Unbeknownst to her, goosebumps bloomed in its wake, and Steve inhaled sharply. His strong grip around her loosened the smallest bit as he tried to get a hold of himself, which provided her an opening to escape. Taking advantage of it, she slipped out, only to maneuver around and push her foot off the nearest support pole of the platform. With the leverage given, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, the weight of her body pushing into him knocking him off-balance.

"Oh, God!" he groaned. Granted, her strength was not to the level of his, but she did have surprise on her side, and that managed to get him to drop to one knee. Bracing a palm in the wood chips, the arms around his shoulders tightened, and one leg dug up against his torso as she clung to him.

"Hurry, Jamie! I got the dragon in a koala hold!" she cried, tightening her grip on the bigger man. The laughter in her voice loosened something in Steve's chest, but acknowledgment of it went by the wayside as his son suddenly charged from under the nearest platform. A stream of screaming coursed out of the boy's mouth, Jamie's happy shrieks joining with Holly's giggles as the blond man was attacked from the front and the back. Soon enough, the three fell into the wood chips, Steve grunting as the other two were laughing. However, the young woman holding onto him let her laughter peter off, and her dark gaze raked over him as she pushed herself off the ground.

"You okay, Dragon?" Holly asked, her tone lowered as her brow furrowed in concern.

"I'll walk it off," he said, swallowing hard and pushing himself off his knees. A twinge ran up his back from both the frontal assault from Jamie and the hold Holly had on him. Idly reaching and rubbing at it, he dropped his gaze down to the little guy, glazing over his pain with a forced grin. To Jamie, he asked, "Bud, you mind sliding a bit while Holly and I take a breather?"

Blond strands flopped over Jamie's forehead as he nodded. "Alright, Daddy."

At once, he took off to the other end of the playground, climbing eagerly and quickly to get to the twisting slide. Together, Holly and Steve wandered over to the bench, her palm warm against his bicep and an apology all over her face.

"I didn't hurt you, did I? I'm really sorry, I just—" she started, but his hand came up, brushing away her concern as he sat.

"I'm fine, don't worry about it. I just need a minute; we were out here for about an hour before you came, and I just need a quick break," he explained, gesturing for her to sit beside him. Glancing back over at the playground, he snickered as Jamie ran up to the climbable rungs on the farther platform, his smile still bright and wide. "I wish I had as much energy as he does, but I just don't."

"I hear ya," she replied with a chuckle, crossing her legs and leaning back against the bench's rest. For several minutes the pair sat side by side in silence, but for some reason, Holly didn't find it uncomfortable. Instead, she grinned as the little blond boy on the playground slid and hopped, his feet stomping across the loping bridge connecting the two platforms together. Returning to the quiet moment she'd had with him earlier, when he asked her if she was alright, she murmured softly, "Jamie's such a sweet kid."

She detected the slight straightening of Steve's posture, quiet pride radiating through him despite the small smile he kept on his lips.

"Yeah, he is," he responded, a thumb tapping against his thigh. Glancing at her then, he leaned his elbows onto his knees, hands linking together. "Really is a blessing, given...everything."

She inclined her chin, nodding over to the young boy. "You're doing well with him, Steve. Especially on your own."

It was impossible to miss that fact. The lack of a female presence (or another parenting presence—she tried not to jump to any conclusions) in their lives was something she could not help but note, along with the fact that Steve did not wear a wedding ring. Nearly every time she'd run into them, it was just the two Rogers fellows, and the older man veritably doted on his boy.

He clicked his tongue at that, canting his head. "It's not just me. I've had some help."

"Even so." She grinned at him, mimicking his posture then. Bashfully, he gave a single nod and a shrug of the shoulders.

"Just doing my best."

Holly nodded, biting her lip as she looked down at her shoes. Her hands twisted in her lap as she sat up and considered another question, one that had been on her mind since after the first week she'd been there. It surfaced again when she'd been invited into their apartment, but she'd curbed her tongue then, and every time afterward. Two months on, she found she could no longer quell the inquiry.

"Steve...I know this next question might be painful or awkward for you, but..."

The brightness in his eyes dulled, turning stormy even as he flashed a knowing look at her.

"Asking about his mom?" he broke in then, not willing to let her trailing words hang indefinitely. Passing a hand over his face, he began to toy with the outer hem of his jeans. "Yeah, it, it can be. Jamie's mother is..."

A grimace surfaced on his lips, and he looked away from her.

"Peggy passed away three and a half years ago."

Holly let out a soft gasp, her hand coming up to cover her mouth. Granted, it was plainly obvious that Steve was a single father, but she hadn't thought it was due to untimely death. The possibility was there, but it was not the one she had considered. Tension wracked her form as her stomach began to churn, and she started to reach for him, but quickly stopped her fingers midair.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you," she said in a rushed whisper. Her gaze fell to her knees, and she felt her tongue moving before she could stop it. "I just, I see you with him all the time, and there hasn't been...it wasn't any of my business. I'm sorry."

It was then that Steve's own hand came up, gently clasping around her raised wrist and lowering it. The grin he sported contained very little amusement, but it did show that he was not offended by her.

"It's okay, Holl. I don't blame you for wondering," he replied, the pad of his thumb absently hooked under the end of her sleeve for a moment before he let her go. "I'd wonder, too, if it were me."

She dipped her chin, the lump in her throat sticking as she swallowed. "Was she sick?"

Steve canted his head in the negative, taking in a deep breath and closing his eyes. If only it were something along those lines; he'd often thought that illness was something he would have been able to...he didn't know. He knew it would not have been easier, but at least he would have...

"Car accident. Drunk driver jumped the curb and crashed into a store front, where she had...she'd gone to get a few things after work." Years on, he could feel the grief and trembling in his soul at the thought. His wife, his love, had taken a short trip to pick up food. She'd done it a thousand times before, and had come away unscathed. But that day, that time, she did not. Instead of her calling to let him know she was on her way back, he got an altogether different one that evening. The flash of that dark night, of the ones that followed, coursed through his mind, and he took another breath. "She was gone before the paramedics arrived. It happened about a month after Jamie's first birthday."

With illness, he thought, he would've had the chance to say good-bye. Unconsciously, he rubbed his thumb over his ring finger, the groove that had once been left by his wedding ring all but gone now. Beside him, Holly sat, stunned by his admission, inhaling sharply as it all settled inside her.

"Oh, my God. Steve, I, I...I'm so sorry," she told him, meaning every word. What had happened, what he had no doubt gone through—what he and his son had gone through—was horrifying. Her fingers splayed on his arm, marking the sincerity of her sorrow for him, the very truth of it outlining her face.

"It's..." He couldn't finish the statement. She had nothing to apologize for, and in any case, there was nothing her apology could do. Instead, he merely placed his hand over hers, patting it a few times before letting it rest there. For several more minutes they sat, Steve lost in his thoughts and Holly lost in hers. Her gaze trailed away to the young boy sliding and running around the playground. Jamie, that bright, sunny little guy, had to grow up without his mother, probably didn't remember her save through whatever his father told him about her. It was no wonder why Steve was so devoted to him.

Poor Steve. Poor _Jamie_.

"Her eyes," she muttered, another thought striking her, and Steve cocked his head in confusion.

"Huh?"

"Jamie," she said, her gaze sliding back guiltily to his boy. Nodding at him, she completed softly, "He looks just like you, except for the eyes."

"Yeah," Steve replied after a few seconds, the corner of his mouth pulling. Sometimes it made his heart twinge to see Peggy's gaze staring at him from the little guy, but he was glad to see some part of her in him. And not only that. Letting a smirk grow, he continued, "And her craftiness; he definitely got that from her."

The corner of her mouth started to lift. "I think that's a joint thing. Sam told me a couple stories, remember."

He snorted audibly at that. "Right."

More silence fell between them, the few inches of space between them gone as Holly leaned her shoulder to his. The quiet solidarity was there for him to draw upon, and he knew it as her knee tapped against his, holding there and the heat of her soaking into him.

"...I still stand by what I said. You're doing great," she said after several minutes, keeping her voice low as Jamie suddenly streaked in front of them, dashing from one edge of the playground to the other.

Steve looked at Holly, blue eyes connecting with brown, and he inclined his head. "Thank you."

The little boy dashed by once again, another set of sticks in hand and him shouting his intentions on building a log cabin trailing behind him. That earned brief grins from the two adults on the bench, and broke up some of the tension still in the air.

"Thank you, too," she said after awhile, earning herself another spiked eyebrow from him. Cupping a hand in the air, she went on, "I wasn't feeling all that good; you two cheered me up."

"For a little while, at least," he replied, chuckling in self-deprecation and scratching at the curve of his jaw. Her fingers flicked out then, brushing away the comment.

"It's more than I had all day, so...yeah," she admitted, giving him a halfhearted grin before combing through the loose strands of her hair. As she pushed it all to one side, Steve watched her, his brow quirking.

"What happened? Is something wrong with your work?" he wondered. From the texts and personal conversations of the past, he had inferred that Holly was actually doing rather well in her first weeks at Hill's Books. Perhaps something had happened, something she had not wished to talk about when they had walked up from the mailboxes the night before. He felt the urge inside him build, the one that had driven him the first time they'd met and she'd been abandoned to set up her home on her own. He couldn't put a name to it, but he did know that he wished to help her with whatever was troubling her. Steve did not know whether he should have been relieved when she shook her head, so he held his tongue and waited for her to explain.

"Not really," she said, fingers curling around the ends of her sleeves. The gnawing feeling of inadequacy and guilt hit her then, and she tried to put a lighter spin on her own issues. Lifting a shoulder, she mumbled, "Just...homesick, I guess. Kind of hard to be far from my family. It sort of hit me today."

It truly was; all of her family lived in the Midwest, and she was totally on her own. When she'd first accepted her job, it had seemed like an exciting novelty, being somewhere neither her parents nor her siblings had ever even been. That morning, the separation was difficult to swallow. Steve dipped his chin, understanding in his irises.

"I get that. It can be tough," the blond man beside her commiserated. He'd been in her position, especially when he and Peggy had moved to D.C. themselves. He understood feeling lost and alone, in a place he barely knew and with few people to help him out. He'd been lucky enough to have those few who were around reach out to him. To that day, he was still grateful for it. Slowly, he reached over, the warmth of his palm bleeding through the fabric of her shirt when it rested on her back. When she glanced up at him, he gave her a genuine, encouraging grin. "You seem to be holding your own, though. That's admirable."

Denial was written over her features, and she dug the tip of her shoe against the dirt. "It's not a big thing. Not in comparison to lots of other things."

"It's all relative, though. I, I think you look fine—are doing fine," he said, hastily correcting himself on his minor verbal blunder. Holly's gaze remained focused on the middle distance, and inwardly, he let out a slow breath, believing she hadn't noticed it. Gently, he began to rub small circles on her back, feeling the strain in her form start to relax under his touch. When her eyes met his gaze once more, he pronounced sincerely, "You're gonna be alright. I promise."

Steve watched as a slow blush flooded into her cheeks, could feel his own ears burning as they continued to look at one another. The thud in his chest returned, and he had to swallow hastily. The seconds were suspended between them, the moment holding them in its grip.

At least, until Jamie cried through the haze, "Stop sitting! Come play with me!"

The moment was broken, and the two adults dropped their gazes. Halfhearted chuckles dripped from their mouths as they instead turned their attention to Jamie. He had climbed up to the top of the slide platform again, waving at them insistently. His blond hair was a little more askew than before, and chips of wood had fallen out of his pockets, but he maintained his exuberance and waved even harder.

Holly gave Steve a small smile, tipping her chin in the boy's direction. "Guess you're being summoned."

Steve scoffed aloud, holding up a single finger and shaking his head. "Wait for it..."

Her brow furrowed at that, but she didn't have to wait long before she understood what he was waiting for.

"Holly!" Jamie barked out then, flapping a hand for her to come over. "Come slide, too!"

Steve nudged her with his elbow, the last of his sorrow disappearing in a wink. "Told you, you won't get out once you're in."

A giggle coursed out of her throat, and she swiped discreetly at her eyes as he stood. As Steve looked down at her, she raised her chin, taking in a deep breath and squaring her shoulders.

"That's okay," she intoned, meeting his grin with one of her own. His hand extended to her once again, and she took it, letting him help her up. It wasn't until they'd crossed over to the connected platforms that he let his grasp drop hers, neither of them calling attention to it as they climbed and prepared to slide with Jamie, as he asked.

* * *

 **A/N:** Well, things are progressing...slowly, but they are progressing.

Yes, Peggy has passed away in this universe. I will be touching more on that in future chapters, but for now, I thought that learning of what happened to Jamie's mother was enough. Sad, no?

I recently got a bit more inspiration from my nephew playing when I saw him a couple of weeks ago. Such a sweet kid, and so lively! I wish I could keep up with him...I want to bottle his energy and use it for myself, ugh.

Next chapter will be more...on-the-town in flavor. Just FYI. And add me on Twitter so you can stay updated!

I own nothing from the MCU, nor do I own any other pop culture references made in the text ( _Star Wars_ , etc.).

Thanks for reading, please review, and I'll see you all for the next one!


	4. Chapter 4

_Tap-tap, tap. Tap-tap, tap._

Holly glanced up from her laptop, her fingers stilling on the keyboard as she narrowed her eyes. Darcy had been thumping out a rhythm with the end of her pen for the past couple of minutes, and it was starting to grate on her. While she did not often regret sharing the office that they had, it did make things a bit more...confining. Which was highlighted when one or the other was impatient or bored. Given that they were nearing the weekend, she surmised that was likely what had her fellow social media manager on edge. On Fridays, they were allowed to leave an hour earlier than the rest of the week, and it seemed to make the time stretch all the more. Blowing out a breath, Darcy absently flung the pen away, turning to her computer and connecting to her online music library. With the tapping extinguished, Holly let out a slow breath, intent on returning to her current (mind-numbing) project.

That, however, was not meant to last, either.

"What are your plans for the weekend, Holly?" she asked after awhile, turning her chair to face her. The other young woman had taken up a post at one end of the couch, her legs stretched out before her and a few papers settled on the floor beside her.

"Oh, well...um..." she trailed off, ducking her head slightly. She already had her answer, but she had the sense that Darcy wasn't going to like it much. After a few seconds, she just exhaled and spit it out. "Laundry."

She was correct; her coworker did not look pleased with that at all. "You have to be kidding me. You are not spending another weekend in at home."

The other woman opened her mouth to object, though she knew whatever she had would be weak, indeed.

"Darce, I—"

"Ah, ah!" she cut her off, wagging a finger in the air. Pointing it at her, she continued, "No arguments. You and I will be going out. All work and no play, et cetera, et cetera."

Holly brow furrowed, her amusement dimming. "I am not _dull_. I've just been busy."

"Busy sitting at home," Darcy retorted, rolling her eyes. Shutting her laptop, she gestured toward the single window of their office, the sight of the street and the building on the opposite side highlighted. "C'mon, we'll go out, get some drinks, act like the twenty-somethings we actually are and not the old ladies some of us are pretending to be."

The other brunette gave her a faux withering look, but the glimmer in her dark eyes belied it.

"Nice," she grunted, scratching at the curve of her jaw and falling quiet. Her coworker and new friend did have a point, though. In the last few months of being in the city, she really hadn't taken advantage of the nightlife. With first weeks of scrabbling to find her place at work and home, she hadn't given the matter much thought. And when she did have a free moment, it was mostly to do things during the day on her weekends, like going to the park or the library. Or hanging around the apartments, with Steve and Jamie, and occasionally Sam, too. Those were fun times, but she had to admit that she hadn't really gotten out much beyond her neighborhood.

It wouldn't hurt to have one night out.

Inclining her head, she announced, "Okay, fine. Let's do it!"

"Awesome," Darcy intoned, satisfaction on her face and a smug, proud smile on her lips at a job well done. Flicking her fingers in the air, she pronounced, "We'll do prep at your place; mine is such a disaster zone at the moment."

"How do you know mine isn't?" the other young woman asked, eyebrows rising slightly. She could no more than shrug, unapologetic in the least for her answer.

"I don't, but to be honest, I kinda wanna do some creeping on your place. See what it's like over there."

Holly snickered, canting her head. "Sure."

With the plan set in place, Holly had endeavored to get back to work on updating the contact lists for the separate departments in the company. Darcy hummed happily as she started toying with literature layouts for future pamphlets and cards that could be distributed around the city, occasionally cranking up a song or two when they played on her music library. With Darcy pleased and occupied, the remainder of the work day seemed to float by. Clocking out, she gave her friend her address, with the intention of meeting up within the next couple of hours. With her arriving at an earlier hour at home, she hadn't seen her mailbox pals, which was she had expected. The slight disappointment inside was pushed down, and she climbed the stairs two at a time to the second floor, powering to her apartment swiftly and scrambling to get things tidied before the intercom buzzed.

Clothes were shoved into drawers and the closet, the dishes were hastily placed in the dishwasher, and she had just shoved her empty cereal box into the trash just as the electronic rattle coursed through the air, and she let out a fast sigh before activating the lock on her end. Darcy appeared at the door, a duffel bag on her shoulder and a take-and-bake pizza in hand.

Getting ready was almost more fun than the idea of actually going out, and had always been in Holly's experience. Music pumped and a couple of glasses of wine had been poured, and she felt herself relaxing and getting into the idea of going out as Darcy chattered about the couple of places she had in mind, about the bartender of one that she'd had her eye on for awhile and wanting Holly to see his 'deliciousness' for herself. She'd shrugged at that, gnawing on the last slice of pizza before they bundled the last slices into the fridge. Helping her new friend into the dress she'd picked out and brought over, she let out a low whistle. It was blood red with a lacy overlay, and Darcy owned it. Pulling on her choice, Holly could only hope she could do her ensemble justice.

A few loud knocks broke through the most recent song on the playlist, and Holly flapped a hand at Darcy's quirked eyebrow. She had a very good idea who was at the door, and she quickly crossed the room to the front door. Leaning and looking through the peephole, she nodded once to herself, her supposition proven correct.

"Hey, Steve," she breathed, opening the door and revealing her neighbor. It appeared that he hadn't changed out of his work clothes just yet, though the checked blue shirt he wore had the top two buttons popped. He'd been half-turned, looking at something behind him as he clutched a book in one hand. At the sound of her voice, he pivoted to face her again.

"Hey, I just wanted—" Suddenly, the words in his mouth dried up, his blue eyes widening as he took in the sight of Holly. Blinking rapidly, he couldn't help the crooked smile that sprouted on his lips. "Woah. You look...really great."

Holly glanced down at herself, a bright smile playing on her lips and her ears burning as he looked at her. She supposed she shouldn't have doubted the purple halter dress or her black wedge boots. A surge of pleasure and confidence ripped through her then, and she met his eye-line squarely (which was easier to do when the boots had brought her nearer to his height).

"Thank you," she murmured, turning her beam onto him then. He dipped his chin, tucking his hand into his pocket before meeting her dark gaze again.

"Yo, still waiting on an intro here," crowed a voice, and Holly nearly jumped at the sound. Mentally cursing herself for gawking, she stepped back a bit and gestured for Steve to come in.

"Right. Steve, this is my coworker, Darcy," she introduced them, "Darcy, this is Steve."

Darcy let her eyebrows rise the barest fraction, the curve of her mouth taking on a new air as she examined the new arrival.

"Oh, _that_ Steve, huh?" she replied, sending Holly a significant look. The other brunette shot her back a look of her own, crossing her arms over her chest as her friends exchanged waves in greeting. "Nice to meet you. Heard a bit about you."

Oh, Darcy Lewis had heard about this Steve guy. Neighbor Steve, who had come to her rescue upon moving in. Neighbor Steve, who was genuinely kind and a little shy, but was a sarcastic smartass on occasion. Neighbor Steve, who was giving Holly a less-than-neighborly once-over when she wasn't looking. And she was doing the same, as well.

She also heard the tremors of denial in her friend's voice when she ventured a theory or two of her own, but she wasn't about to mention that, then.

He glanced at Holly out the corner of his eye, but his grin stayed in place.

"Hopefully the bits you heard weren't too bad."

Holly smirked, daring to wink at him. "Not at all, Jungle Gym Monster."

Steve snorted at that, scratching his neck with his free hand and chuckling.

"Of course. And I was a dragon, thank you," he corrected her playfully. Darting his gaze between the two women, he wondered, "You ladies doing something special tonight?"

Darcy patted at the peekaboo part in her hair, raising her chin with a sly smile. "Just going to a couple of clubs or bars, or whatever. Girls' night out."

The glitter in his eyes increased at that news. "Oh, well, definitely have fun with that."

"What about you?" Holly asked, looking up at him. He canted his head to the left, tapping his foot lightly.

"Disney and chicken fingers appear to be on the docket for my evening."

Darcy shook her head, undeterred by the answer. "Not a bad one, either. Disney movies are the shi—"

"Daddy," came a high-pitched voice, and Holly had to smother a laugh when a small, blond head peeped out from behind the bigger man. Jamie had been hiding behind Steve the whole time, waiting for him to see her and complete the task he'd set out for himself. The little boy tugged at the side of his dad's khaki pants, asking, "Can we go watch Nemo, please?"

At the realization that the blond man was not alone, that his child had actually come with him, the bespectacled brunette's eyes widened marginally, her hands clamping over her mouth as she cut off her curse.

"Oh, God. Didn't realize..." she trailed off, her words muffled by her fingers. Shooting a glare at Holly, the other young woman merely shrugged a shoulder, biting back a grin of her own. Clearing her throat, Darcy removed her hands and apologized, "My bad."

"No worries," Holly said, smoothing over the minor error and ruffling Jamie's hair. "You caught yourself in time."

Steve scoffed audibly, dipping his chin at that.

"Believe me, he's heard worse from his uncles." He looked down at the little boy, an eyebrow spiking at him and a smirk pulling at his lips. "But you know better than to say what they do, right?"

"Yep!" he replied brightly, nodding exuberantly. After he'd introduced himself to Darcy, the boy turned to look at Holly. Squinting up at her, he wondered, "Holly, why do you got paint on your face?"

She chuckled at that, making relief bloom in Steve's chest when he realized she hadn't felt insulted. Her fingers tapped lightly at the curve of her jaw, unwilling to press further.

"It's make-up, sweetie," she explained, crouching down a bit to let him examine it a bit closer. A long with the dress and hair, she'd allowed Darcy to help her with the make-up. The girl had a way with the brushes and tools that she herself didn't think she could ever learn. Big brown eyes took in the red lipstick, the blended eyeshadow and the winged liner, and she shrugged a shoulder. "It's a girl thing."

"Not always," came a mutter from the other woman, to which the blond man shot her a warning look. Now would definitely not be the time to explain why that was. The little boy was a bit preoccupied, but at his father's admonition, he was being careful.

"Oh," he eventually muttered. Blinking at her, the child screwed up his brow again. "But why?"

"Why am I wearing it?" she inquired, looking for clarification. Off Jamie's nod, she told him, "Because I want to look nice when I go out with my friend, Darcy."

The boy dropped his hands, tilting his head and continuing to stare. "You look kinda like Auntie Nat with that on. She's gotta wear it, too."

The corner of Holly's mouth curved, though confusion was written all over her face. She hadn't heard of her before. Seeing the question in her eyes, Steve gave her a lopsided smile, shrugging a shoulder.

"Old friend," he stated simply, maintaining eye contact with her. Tipping his head to the left, he continued, "And it's a compliment. Although you're..."

His gaze shifted down to her crouched form, a red flush crawling up his neck when he realized his vantage point from above allowed him a direct more direct view of her body. She crossed her arms, the hint of cleavage that was showing pulling his focus, and he abruptly looked up. His gaze locked onto Darcy, who had been watching him and was smirking at his obvious lack of composure. For her part, Holly was smiling at Jamie, keeping her attention on him.

"Well, thanks, bud. I appreciate that," she said, tucking back some of the loose strands around her face, the earrings in her ears glinting then.

"Welcome," the little boy said. Stepping back, he grabbed his dad's free hand, tugging until he looked down. To Steve, he asked, "You think Auntie Nat might wear that stuff next time we see her?"

"Maybe," Steve answered absently, his gaze lingering on the pretty young woman in his peripherals, the swish and sway of the purple dress around her hips as she stood straight making him swallow hard.

"You think she might—" Jamie began, but Darcy strode forward then, her phone in hand and her fingers tapping fast at the screen.

"Well, not to rush you boys out, but we are all dressed and have somewhere to go," she reminded them all, and Holly winced a bit at her pronouncement. Even though they did have plans, she didn't have to be so blunt about the Rogers fellows leaving. Steve merely nodded, taking one step backward.

"Right, right," he responded, just then remembering why he'd come over in the first place. The book he'd been holding onto was held out, the spine up and revealing the title of the fantasy series that was very popular those days. "Just wanted to return the book I borrowed."

Taking the book from him, Holly ruffled the page. "Finished already?"

"I read fast," he said, flicking his fingers through the air. She wondered if he'd developed that skill out of necessity, to consume stories and not be too distracted to watch over his son. He cast a glance to her bookshelves by the television, spying the gap on one of the upper shelves. "Let me know when you're done with the sequel, yeah?"

She scoffed at that. "I'm not the library, Steven."

"But you are so much closer, and nicer to be around," he retorted, another flush flooding up her neck then. The pink in his cheeks remained as he stepped back and took Jamie's hand in his. Waving, he led the boy out the door, calling out to the young ladies, "Have fun tonight. Be careful."

"We will," she promised him, waggling her fingers at Jamie as he cried out his farewells, too. "Bye!"

Last smiles were exchanged as she shut the door behind them, and she whirled on her heel, about to tell Darcy that she should've employed a bit of tact. However, she hadn't expected her new friend to be sporting a grin akin to a cat that got the cream.

"So that's Neighbor Steve, huh?" she said, brushing down the skirt of her dress with her free hand, one hip jutting out. "Looks like he could give my roommate Jane's boyfriend a run for his money in the cut department. Maybe."

Holly turned her head away, but there was no hiding the pleased set of her face. "Yeah."

Her friend nodded, her thumb rapping along the edge of her phone as she tilted her head and considered something.

"Any new developments there?" she inquired, receiving a shake of the head in response before Holly could register the question. When a narrowed gaze was turned onto her, she went on, "Mind if I have a slice of that beef cake?"

"Darcy," Holly barked then, her jaw dropping at her words.

"Just kidding," she replied, giving her an exaggerated wink before striding to the door. Arching an eyebrow at her pointedly, Darcy murmured, "Looks like someone else got a bite before me; not gonna mess with that."

The natural blush under Holly's make-up darkened as she grumbled and grabbed her clutch. Darcy giggled a little as her coworker muttered about getting moving, and said no more as they locked up and left.

 **xXxXxXx**

Steve sighed low as he tapped the end of his stylus against the table. After getting dinner and the movie in, Jamie had finally tired himself out enough for his father to take him into bed. With the little boy tucked in and away in Dreamland, he had a few moments to catch up on some clean-up around the house. A few toys were shunted into the boxes under the window, blankets were folded up, and he set the soaking dishes in the dishwasher, the load finally ready and chugging away. Content with that, he wandered back to the dining room, fetching up his work bag. He had been assigned a project for the owner's other business, a revamping of their logos after five years of the current models. Having taken samples of the ones previously used, he thought to add a sort of retro flair to the new designs.

His focus had been on that for a good portion of the last couple of hours. Well, that, and other things.

Propping his chin in his hand, he fetched up his cell phone, which had remained quiet for the last several minutes. Idly, he tapped at the screen, opening to the last text messaging thread he'd answered to. Unbeknownst to him, a tired grin stretched his lips as he paged up to the beginning of the night's messages. Holly had been texting him every so often while she was out with her work friend, about the bars they'd been to and asking if he'd ever been to them, himself. One, he hadn't, but the second and current one she was at was tended by a guy he went to college with. It had been a long time since he'd been out to see the guy, but from what he heard from Sam and others, he was doing alright for himself.

Slowly, he scrolled a little further, the smile broadening and a chuckle rumbling in his chest as he did so. The picture she'd sent him, of her and Darcy with the overloaded Bloody Marys they had purchased, had proven her accusation rather well. The amount of garnishes and skewered goods in the drinks were enough to make them full meals, but his concentration was not on their glasses. Instead, his focus was drawn to the brunette without glasses, the waves of her dark hair framing her face and the dramatic adornment outlining her features drawing him in.

Holly looked so...pretty, and _lively_ , and...

Something in his chest tightened, the conflict inside pulling in opposite directions as he looked down at her picture again. His thumb rubbed at his fourth finger briefly, and he shook his head, going down to the remaining messages they'd shared.

 **Looks like you're having fun,** he'd told her in response to the picture. When he'd noted the glasses littering their table, he'd also fired off, **Don't get too crazy, huh?**

A part of him regretted sending the message as soon as it was gone, chiding himself for not turning off the 'dad' part of his brain. However, she'd seemed to take it in stride, sending him another message and a winking emoji swiftly after that.

 _ **No promises. Darcy's on a mission, and by God, she will find a man to fulfill it.**_

He'd laughed at that, too. Darcy definitely gave off the impression that she would not back down from getting what she wanted.

 **I salute her. No mission of your own?**

The last question had been difficult to type out, his stomach twisting even as he read it back to himself. If that was her aim as well, to make a connection while out enjoying herself, well, he wouldn't blame her for it. It was her life, and her choice, if that was the case. Still, the thought of some strange man crowding her, putting the moves on her, discomforted him. A thread of relief flooded his veins when she'd answered him back.

 _ **Just to survive the night, and get home in one piece,**_ she'd told him, sending him a thumbs-up emoticon then. He let himself smirk at that, though his concern remained even as he responded.

 **You'll make it, soldier. You'll make it. Like I said earlier, you can call me if you need to.**

The conversation bubble on her end blipped on and off for a few minutes, and he found himself distracted by it. Wondering if perhaps he'd overstepped his bounds, he was about to type out a reply to smooth over his previous word when she finally finished hers.

 _ **I will if I need to. Promise,**_ she'd said, the lack of additional pictures or emojis lending to the sincerity behind her words.

After that, she'd been silent. Steve had to suppose Holly was out, having fun and taking a moment to be carefree. Which he didn't begrudge her in the least; after all, she wasn't in the same place in life as he was, and could afford to do so. He just hoped she would get home safe, and soon. It was getting rather late, and—

A thump and a cry came from Jamie's room then, and Steve was on his feet immediately. He tucked his phone into his pocket, his thoughts rapidly churning over what could have happened and leaving the others on the back burner, for the moment.

 **xXxXxXx**

Holly glanced at her phone, noting the new notification lighting up the screen. Taking in the time as well, she blew out a fast breath before pushing her way to the bar. Closing time was still a couple of hours away, but at that point in her life, she wasn't built to do late nights often anymore, and she was ready to get home and in bed. Threading her way through the people surrounding her, she craned her neck, her dark gaze darted around the dimly lit space. The bar they'd gone to was a decent enough place, the exposed brick of the walls complemented by the dark-grained woods of the bar and shelving units behind it. A small stage had been erected in the back, the evening live band in the midst of a slow song and couples took to the small bit of parquet floor that was open. Everyone else was milling around or taking coveted seats at the bar itself. She'd stepped into the relative peace of the bathroom to call out for a ride, and she finally received word that it was there.

All she had to do was locate Darcy and bring her away.

Thankfully, it hadn't taken long, since the other brunette girl had not moved from her perch. She had remained at the bar, her focus not wavering despite her intoxication. The shift of black and red caught Holly's eye, and she swiftly made a beeline for Darcy, one hand cupping around her elbow.

"C'mon, we gotta meet the Lyft," she crooned in her friend's ear, blinking against the tiredness and the fuzziness in her head. After a few moans and groans from Darcy, she finally persuaded her off her perch, leaning over the bar one more time to say something to the bartender. He smiled back at her as she said her good-byes, his eyes piercing and a hand combing down his hair—auburn, but with silver threading it liberally. Pointing to her phone and arching an eyebrow, the guy murmured something that Holly couldn't hear, and Darcy nodded enthusiastically. Finally, she tripped away from the bar, looping her arm with Holly's as the other brunette guided them out of the space.

The sound of the bar were muffled by the closing door, and Holly breathed a sigh of relief. Her ears were thankful for the relative quiet outside; cars driving by and the people wandering between bars were tamer in comparison to the live band. Dropping her jaw in an effort to clear up the fuzz in her head, she squinted in the streetlights. Though she hadn't had as much to drink as Darcy, she'd definitely had enough to make her tipsy. That also meant she was not totally observant, and so it took her a few tries to find the car she'd hired. Luckily, the vehicle was parked down the block, and soon enough, the two young women were clipping down the sidewalk to it.

"I, I totally got Pietro's number," Darcy cheered happily, waving her device and her clutch in celebration as they walked. Shrugging a shoulder and swaying a bit, she crowed, "Called me princessa or somethin'...but I got it, finally!"

Holly grinned at that. She'd told Steve about the bar they'd gone to, and he'd mentioned knowing the tender, Pietro, personally. She reckoned that would make for an interesting connection story in the future, once her friend sobered up and eventually tried out the number he'd given her.

"Well done, Darce, well done," she congratulated her, a hello spared for the driver of the Lyft car as they both piled into the back.

"God, D.C., helluva town," her friend mumbled, shuffling to the far seat and laying her head against the window. Climbing in after her, Holly shut the door and smirked.

"If you say so."

All things considered, the night had been fun. Initially, Holly had feared that she might end being dragged to clubs were the music was even louder than what she'd already experienced that night, places were the drinks were far too pricey and the people took every opportunity to creep on the others or grind on them. Inwardly, she later chastised herself for not having more faith in Darcy's choices. It appeared that her preferences ran towards bars, though they tended to be a few steps up from the dive bars she personally visited in college.

"What happened to that Peter guy who was talking to you?" Darcy piped up, reasserting herself among the living. Holly huffed out a chuckle under her breath, tucking a piece of stray hair back behind her ear.

Peter had been at a table near theirs when they'd first arrived at the second bar, sipping from a low-ball glass and leaning back in his chair. His efforts to look nonchalant were upset when the two young women sat nearby, with him jerking forward in his chair and sporting a goofy grin when Holly had chanced to look over at him. He sported a goatee with additional scruff on his chin, his hair parted messily and his eyes bright with more exuberance than alcohol. Sensing an opportunity, Darcy tipped her head to him, gesturing for him to join them. As soon as introductions were made, she'd quietly slid out of her seat, heading to the bar for a refill. Nervous as she was to be left alone with a virtual stranger, Holly eventually relaxed as Peter spoke. It turned out he was a commercial pilot, in town for a short stay before his next flight out. He was nice enough, a bit dorky, but still a decent fellow.

However, it remained that there were one or two obstacles in her path that prevented her from strengthening the connection.

"Pointed him in the direction of the green-haired girl he kept ogling." That had been the most immediate roadblock: he had more of a taste for the oddly striking woman on the other side of the bar, who in turn was glancing over at him, too. Given that they'd just met, she wasn't terribly offended, and sent him on his merry way after he'd ingested the last of his Dutch courage. Shaking her head, she muttered, "Hate to say it, but your matchmaking skills drop below par after the second bar and the third drink."

Still, she did give her friend a few points for the effort made. And Darcy racked them mentally as well. She tipped her head back against the rest, and she shrugged.

"Wasn't really tryin'. Doesn't matter anyway, not when you've got Steve," she said, her smile growing as she caught Holly ducking her head bashfully. Reaching over and poking her arm, she teased, "Mm, you got a DILF, girl. Better get on that soon. Meant that literally, by the way."

Holly could feel her cheeks burning, and was thankful for the darkness of the cab. The driver upfront was kind enough not to say anything, but she did hear the snort he suppressed, and she felt herself shrink a little into the seat.

"Thank God we are almost home."

Luckily, little else was said as the driver took them back into Georgetown, the swatch of her building cutting into the muted haziness of night and the street lamps nearby. Thanking the fellow for the ride, and tipping him accordingly on the app as they exited, Holly steered Darcy and herself to the side entrance, her key and FOB employed to get them in quickly. Darcy clung to the railing as they took the stairs, raising her chin at the second floor landing.

"You should stop by his place, see if he's—"

She was cut off by the deadpan look her friend shot at her, the marked lack of amusement stilling her tongue.

"He's a father, with a four-year-old boy," Holly stated, shutting down the idea at once. Taking her friend's elbow, she grunted, "I am _not_ waking them up in the middle of the night to indulge your weirdness."

Rounding the corner and heading into the hall, Darcy faced forward, her eyes attempting to narrow in on something further down the way.

"Oh, yeah? Then what about that?" she asked, jabbing a finger at it. Following its path, Holly stopped short and gaped for a moment or two. Down the hall, pacing it slowly and methodically, was the blond fellow she couldn't quite get out of her head all night. His work attire had been swapped, evidently, with dark blue sweats and a white t-shirt, his socked feet taking measure steps. A smaller blond head rested on his shoulder, little arms hanging down loosely.

"Steve," she said softy, his head turning at the sound of his name. He paused in his pacing, grinning wanly at the two women as they approached. Holly braced a hand along the wall as she went, Darcy following her example. Nodding to the little boy in his arms, she remarked obviously, "You're up."

"Yeah," he intoned, deep exhaustion lining his features. His brow was creased, and light purple smudges were beginning to show under his eyes. Adjusting his hold on his son, he murmured lowly, "He had a bad nightmare, been walking him around to get him settled."

Holly frowned in sympathy, her instinct obeyed as she stepped closer. Jamie was asleep once more, his small brow quirking as he rested against his dad. His pajamas, sporting images of Buzz Lightyear and the little green aliens from Toy Story, peeked through the bands of Steve's arms as he held him.

"Poor lil' guy," Darcy crooned quietly behind her. Giving her a slight push, she whispered, "Should help out, Holl."

"That's okay," Steve dissuaded her gently, overriding Darcy's suggestion and preventing her from responding herself. A corner of his mouth curved, and he tipped his head at her friend. "Looks like you've got your own to get to bed."

"Hey now," the other brunette woman grumbled, the comparison not as amusing in her eyes. Holly barely held back a snicker, gesturing to her friend to keep moving.

"Come on, he's right," she told her, letting her precede her down the hall. Hooking a thumbs up at her friend, she canted her head back to the man at her side. "Good night, Steve."

"Night," he said. About to turn away, she heard him inhale sharply, and she looked up at him again. Lifting his chin, he nearly whispered, "I, I'm glad you made it home okay."

A slow smile dawned on her lips, and she nodded once more before stepping away, feeling his blue gaze on her until she'd unlocked her door and guided Darcy inside.

 **xXxXxXx**

Darcy Lewis groaned into her pillow as she felt the sun's rays slant into the room. After arriving back at Holly's place, she remembered little other than shucking off her heels and dress, her pajamas thrown on haphazardly and her speculating about getting gyros delivered at three in the morning. Somehow, she'd made it to the couch, a blanket half-fallen to the floor and the single pillow under her head held in a death grip. Her glasses, she'd discovered, were safe on the nearby coffee table, her fingers having gone on a quest while her eyes remained firmly shut. She also felt the presence of a bucket on the floor beside her. How thoughtful of her friend, she mused dully, lamenting the liquor she'd had and cursing the knives stabbing into her temples.

"Good morning, sunshine," crowed a happy voice then, and she growled into her pillow. After blindly flipping up a particular finger, she heard the laughter that followed. "Ah, yes. Enjoying the hangover?"

How freakin' thoughtful of Holly, she groused inwardly. Rolling onto her side, she watched as her friend set two mugs on the table, steam rising from them and the fragrance of coffee perfuming the air. Her cell phone was there as well, making her briefly panic about the location of her own. Now noticing the scratch of sequins and a zipper under her foot, Darcy relaxed a bit; her clutch with her cards, ID, and phone were safe.

Sitting up fully (and squinting against the light of the room), Darcy grumbled, "How are you not?"

Holly, wrapped in her blue sweater and sleep shorts, winced at her sharp tone and sat on the carpet.

"I drank less than you, remember," she noted mildly. To be fair, she too had circles under her eyes, but Darcy could practically feel hers sagging down her face, and knew that Holly's weren't near that level. The other brunette set down her coffee cup to adjust her ponytail, blinking and closing her eyes as well. "My head aches, but it doesn't feel like I want it to collapse in on itself."

Darcy groaned again, the mug of coffee beckoning to her loudly. Picking it up, she fumbled through her memories of the previous evening and that morning, and her brain lit upon something she couldn't figure out.

"I think I heard something creeping and clattering outside your door earlier. And a thump," she reported, taking a long sip of the caffeine drink. "Are all your neighbors morning people?"

"Not entirely," Holly retorted. The neighbor on her left was an actress, and prone to sleeping in late, and the apartment to the right was open at the moment. Getting up, she strode to the door, peering through the peephole and lifting a shoulder. "Well, I don't see anything out there..."

Opening the door, she was startled by the rustle of plastic grinding against the handle as she did so. Gingerly grabbing up the plastic bag that had been hooked around the outer handle, she looked down into the bag. A large bottle of aspirin sat inside, joined by a couple of Hershey chocolate bars. A folded scrap of notebook paper was within as well, and she drew it out. Flipping it open, the corners of her mouth curved up as she read the short sentence scrawled upon the page.

 _Just in case you need it.—S._

Maintaining her grin, she set the paper on the table and brought the bag over to Darcy. "The Hangover Fairy came with a special delivery."

Taking a peek inside the bag once she'd put it down, Darcy raised a palm to the sky. "God bless the Hangover Fairy."

As she spied the flap of paper there as well, Holly felt the tips of her ears burn. She became thoroughly engrossed in taking a long sip of her coffee as Darcy turned it over in her hand.

"And what's this?"

As she became preoccupied with the note, Holly put down her mug and grabbed up her phone from the coffee table, unlocking it and opening up the messaging app. Her fingers flew and finished her message just as Darcy arched an eyebrow and glanced at her.

 _ **Darcy says thank you for the pills. So do I. :)**_

Shaking her head, Darcy extended her forefinger at her friend. "Girl, I meant what I said last night: you better get on that fast."

Snatching up the pill bottle, she struggled to work off the cap as Holly shook her head and retreated to the kitchen. Taking up some bagels she had sitting out on the counter for breakfast, her phone vibrated in her hand. Looking at the screen, she let out a slow breath.

 **You're welcome. :-D You made it, soldier.**

"Hmm," she hummed to herself, Steve's message receiving a thumbs-up emoticon and another grin as she left the kitchen, a sway in her step that could not be attributed to the night out she'd had.

* * *

 **A/N:** Told ya it would be a little more night-on-the-town in flavor for this chapter. It was fun to write something a little more lighthearted than the previous chapter.

Slowly but surely, Holly and Steve are circling each other a little more tightly than before. I'm excited to go on from here.

Next chapter, we may hear from Auntie Nat, as well as learn a few things...hang tight, it'll come.

I own nothing from the MCU, nor do I own any other pop culture references made in the text (Marvel comics, Disney, Lyft, etc.).

Thanks for reading, please review, and I'll see you all for the next one!


	5. Chapter 5

Yawning lightly, Steve Rogers shook his head as he manned the wheel of his SUV. Having just dropped Jamie off at daycare, he was folded back into the flow of early morning traffic. The heat of the day was already beginning to rise, the mild spring giving way to the growing humidity of summer, and it sat heavily on him. Combing through his hair, he huffed impatiently as the cars before him on the road inched ahead slowly. It was times like those when he gave serious consideration to applying to possible design positions in Georgetown, instead of cutting across the District to get to work. Just then, the flow began to pick up, and he brushed the thought away.

Twenty minutes later, he was navigating his Traverse into the underground parking of a seemingly nondescript office building near the Potomac. Finding a relatively decent spot, he fetched up his work bag, the travel mug of coffee he'd been nursing since packing up and heading out, and his security badge. Passing through the initial checkpoint, he made his way across the wide lobby, casting a glance to the reception desk and sitting area. The sleek, modern-edge sofas led to the towering glass facade facing the street. Metal lines folded into the stone of the inner walls, the swooping and curling loops glinting as the sun pierced through. Shield Advertising was good at making a striking impression, right from the entryway, he noted, just as he had nearly every time he arrived at work.

Taking the elevator to the sixth floor, he moved through the next security point to the open floor space. Instead of cubicles, the office was laid out in a corral-like fashion, the desks of the individual designers and managers separated by a few inches of space. Some people had erected folding screens to maintain an illusion of privacy, but he hadn't done so for his own. Crossing through the space, he nodded hellos to his fellow coworkers, exhaling sharply as he placed his bag on the wide, oak top and booted up his computer. Tiredly, his gaze slipped from the screen over the few knick-knacks littering the space. Clustered in a corner stood a small statuette of Big Ben, gifted to him by Peggy so many years ago, a plastic-encased baseball signed by a few Nationals players, a couple of old trinkets from Brooklyn, and a framed photograph of Jamie. It was taken just before Christmas that year, the child standing proudly beside a snowman he'd built when they'd made their way to New York. Grinning to himself, Steve shook his head and sipped at his coffee.

So far, it was a pretty typical workday, and it likely would continue to be so, he mused to himself as he plugged in the necessary accouterments and design programs. Setting to work, his face creased in concentration, and he did not turn away from his project for quite awhile. Save for the odd phone break here and there.

By midday, he was still working on the finishing touches, applying slow strokes as he moved his cursor and exhaling deeply. He'd have to take his lunch break soon, but not before he could wrap up the project. Finally, a few minutes later, he saved copies of it to his external hard drive and to the computer itself, and he could breathe a sigh of relief.

"This seat taken?" growled out a voice, feminine despite the poor attempt at sounding gruff and low. Reeling a bit from the jerk on his chair and the tone, he snapped his head around, brow furrowed and his mouth opening to reply. Upon spying who it was that actually was beside him, Steve's face creased with pleasant surprise.

"Natasha!" he cried, rising from his chair and throwing his arm around her shoulder for a hug. Natasha Romanoff was a redheaded firecracker, a pistol of a young woman who could enter almost any room and take charge within the first five minutes. It had been something she'd been able to do since third grade, when she'd pushed her way through a crowd of children at recess and stood beside his best friend Bucky, the pair of them shielding Steve when one of the older bullies had tried to knock him around for lunch money. It had served her well into her adult years, securing her a place in one of the top advertising agencies and utilizing her talents in that regard.

She was also one of the few people who had been there for him in the fallout after Peggy's death. Sam had helped him make arrangements for the service and the burial, but Natasha had been the one to set up the order of events, to ready the church and the reception hall for the wake. And it was through her efforts that his job remained steady, even when he felt he was losing his mind and failing as a father. When she had the chance, she would come over and spend time with Jamie, one of the few remaining feminine influences in his life.

The redheaded beauty, with her bright eyes and mischievous smirk, had returned from her trip up north. As always, she was immaculately dressed and her poise remained unmoved, despite the long hours she'd no doubt spent wrangling and reordering things in the new office in Albany.

When he pulled away, he gestured for her to sit in the single visitor's chair beside his desk as he sat again.

"I thought you were coming back next week."

Sitting down, she placed the bag that she'd been carrying on the floor beside her. "Wrapped things up in New York a little early, and I couldn't wait that long to come home. By the way, I managed to get to the old joint on my way back down."

Steve smiled, nostalgia coursing through him for a moment. The "old joint" was a pizzeria Natasha, Bucky, and he had frequented through middle and high school, a small place that was almost the exact middle distance between their separate homes. No trip through the city, to Brooklyn, was complete without a visit there, and they all knew it.

"Their pizza still the best?" he inquired, the set of his face indicating he already knew the answer. Proudly, Nat dipped her chin.

"Of course," she confirmed. Perching on the edge of her seat, she flapped a hand in the air. "Tell me, how have you been? You better have some stories to tell."

Rogers snorted, and tipped his head from side to side. "City's still standing, as you saw, so it's been pretty normal around here."

Romanoff had to allow that, and so she nodded along with him.

"And Jamie? How's he doing?"

The blond man shrugged a shoulder, leaning back in his chair. "He was being a little cranky this morning, but he evened out somewhat by the time I got him to daycare."

The redheaded beauty gave a light chuckle at that. "He's good otherwise, though?"

"Yep," he affirmed. "He's been asking about you lately, so you might need to make an opening in your busy schedule, Romanoff."

A true smile bloomed on her lips, and she brushed an errant curl behind her ear, then.

"I'll definitely look into shifting some things around." Cupping a hand in the air, she went on, "We'll see, though; if I'm not out there, touting your work, I don't know what will happen."

The blond man laughed outright. "Oh, we'll flounder, for sure."

A clearing throat resounded, and Steve turned toward it. By the set of metal cabinets flanking the other side of the desk stood Tony Stark, the owner of the advertising company. It had been a family business, one built from the ground up by his father, Howard. Despite being groomed and raised to take his position years ago, Tony's actual inclinations ran toward science and engineering. Adding his high intelligence into the mix, he'd managed to graduate from high school young and then earn his Master's at MIT. Since he'd been twenty years old, he'd been running the now-national advertising company and his own labs and tech foundation. That day, it seemed, was one to be spent at Shield.

"Afternoon, Rogers," he greeted the blond man, arms crossing over his layered tee and a smirk dancing over his lips. Steve gave a grin back; though he'd often butted heads with Tony over creative differences in the past, the two had managed a decent enough working friendship over the years.

"Hi, Tony," Steve greeted him. Pausing, he scooted his chair over a bit, lowering his voice a tad as he continued, "I've been meaning to talk to you, about the trial."

Stark froze, his dark gaze flicking to Natasha in a not-so-subtle gesture. The redhead was unfazed by it all, instead leaning forward and arching a brow at him. (She'd learned of the situation before she'd left for Albany, and was eager for news on that, as well.)

"The one Bucky..." she began, only to be cut off by Steve's fast nod in confirmation. "Ah."

Due to his nearly lifelong proximity to the various veterans medical centers in D.C., Stark had been working in conjunction with several doctors in the organization, his engineering projects bent to improving the lives of surviving service members and veterans (counteracting the rumors that he had been involved with building contracted weapons for the military over the last ten years). A portion of it was dedicated to constructing and attaching fully-functional artificial limbs to those in need, and somehow attaching it to the nervous system so that it could even be registered as a real limb in the brain. The trials were to be conducted over the next year, and it was incredibly exclusive.

It was a trial that, as it turned out, Steve's closest friend from back home would need after returning from his last tour. Rogers, upon hearing about it, had not hesitated in going to Stark and begging for Bucky Barnes to be included. It had taken some cajoling, and he'd even offered to give up a good portion of his own savings, to have his pal be brought in, but in the end, Stark did not take his money. He just forwarded the name, and counted it as a good deed.

Tony's brow creased, and he let out a slow breath. "You've already got your friend in for consideration, Steve. I can't guarantee more than that. Just make sure he's got all his paperwork ready, and they'll go from there."

The other man inclined his head. The answer he was given was about what he expected, and so he would relay it with certainty to Bucky later on.

"Alright. Just wanted to make sure."

Stark flicked a few fingers toward his computer, eyeing up the screen. "Meanwhile, you got something other than mock-ups for the logo design?"

Steve smirked, turning back to the computer and quickly opening his office email. With a few clicks and taps, he nodded.

"Just sent them," he said, signing off again with little fanfare.

"Fantastic," Tony said, hooking a thumbs-up. Coming around to stand beside his marketing director, he flicked a fast glance at her before pursuing his next line of inquiry. "By the way, you still talking to that girl? I figured I'd ask, since Facebook creeping hasn't turned up more than that you two 'friended' each other."

Steve shot him a baleful look, the tips of his ears starting to burn. Natasha stiffened in her seat, but it went unnoticed by either man. Swiftly, she settled her hands in her lap, keeping her grin in place.

"Oh, yeah, I remember you saying something about a new neighbor," she accounted out loud, a sort of cheerfulness filling her words. Unconsciously, the corners of Steve's eyes creased, striking her in a way that she could not identify.

"Yeah, Holly's still around, and we're still talking. A lot."

Rogers couldn't help but look more than pleased with his statement, even though his face stayed generally placid. The brunet man raked a hand over his cropped locks, brushing the statement away.

"Eh, so you say..."

Giving a long-suffering sigh, Steve withdrew his cell phone from his pocket, tapping at the screen rapidly. Pulling up the texting thread that he and Holly had been participating in, he'd scrolled to the last message, which had come in around an hour prior. She had been out with her coworker Darcy, distributing some copies of the newly-printed materials for Hill's Books. On the way, they'd cut through a couple of parks, finding statues to pose with and set a few books around for the Twitter and Facebook accounts for the company.

"This help, ya creep?" he chided Tony, unable to hide the smirk he was sporting himself.

Stark took the phone, his finger tapping along the side of the device as he focused intently on the screen. He drew in a deep breath, pausing dramatically before glancing up again. His brown eyes seemed to glimmer in the light, and then he dipped his chin once.

"Yep," he proclaimed, handing the phone back to his employee. Glancing at the screen on the pass, Natasha could see the image in the text box, and she was intrigued. Before Steve's fingers could fully close around the device, her own hand shot out, taking it from him and leaping out of her seat so he couldn't snatch it back. Ignoring his groans and grumbles, she looked at the picture. Something akin to pins sticking inside her flared up as she looked at the young woman frozen in time. Brown hair pulled back into a ponytail, dark brown eyes and a wide smile set as she stood beside a statue and posed in faux nonchalance. Giving into the blond man's muttered demands, she handed the phone back, clicking her tongue at him.

"Already have her picture," she stated, raising an eyebrow as the corner of her mouth curved up. "She must be something."

Slight pinkness was spattered along Steve's cheekbones, and Natasha tilted her head, mild surprise on her features. The words had been thrown out as a joke, but she must not have been far off the mark at all.

Canting his head and scratching the back of his neck almost bashfully, he told his friend, "She's really sweet, and warm, and funny. Jamie looks forward to seeing her when we hit the mailboxes on the way in. It's nice to have her around. Livens up the building."

Stark, who had not left the vicinity of Rogers' desk area, let his gaze dart to the redhead in the visitor's chair. Something about the set of her body and face bespoke of hardness, but she had pointedly loosened herself when Steve looked up again. Wincing, the brunet man looked away when she tapped her chin, pretending to give the matter thought.

"Y'know, I think I have Saturday off. What do you say to you, me, and Jamie hitting up some of the monuments, and help me get reacquainted with the city a bit by acting like tourists?" she suggested, her mouth curving pleasantly. "Too bad the cherry blossoms are done, but that should be good."

"Sure. Jamie will be so excited," Steve responded with a grin, fetching up his phone and failing to witness the slightly crestfallen edge in Nat's gaze. As he opened up the browser and began to review a few options out loud, she'd regained her equilibrium, the pair of them deciding on the Spy Museum as an ideal destination for the weekend. With the promise to text him to arrange a departure time, Natasha exchanged one more hug with her old friend, leaving with the intent to get to her own desk. Tony, claiming that he needed to see her soon after to discuss her observations of the new Albany branch, also bid Rogers farewell. The man and woman took easy, measured steps further into the building, the silence around them unbroken for several long moments.

"Subtle, Big Red," Stark muttered out the corner of his mouth, unable to stand it any longer. Natasha arched an eyebrow at him, her face remaining placid.

"What?" she asked, her tone carrying a slight edge to it. "I just made plans to go out with my friend and surrogate nephew this weekend. That's all."

Tony snorted loudly at that, enough so that a few people looked up from their computers as they passed through the bullpen.

"Sure it is," he said, determinedly keeping his voice even and low s they moved. Natasha's irritation was climbing as they wound their way over to her desk, which happened to be the last one before Tony's actual office down the hall. Before she do more than circle toward her chair, he caught her arm, his dark eyes filling with concern as he looked at her. "Careful, kiddo."

Natasha almost glared at him, even while giving a brittle smile. People could say what they wished about Tony Stark, but he certainly wasn't as self-absorbed or unobservant as some presumed he could be. To be fair, though, she knew he only had an inkling because she'd allowed herself to show it to him, somehow.

Still, she had no wish to hear or heed the warning he'd given. Particularly as she'd thought it unnecessary.

"Aren't I always, Tony?" she shot back, pulling away and setting her bag upon her desk with a marked thump. Dropping into her seat, she began to boot up her computer, fingers resting impatiently over the keys and her gaze focusing on the monitor's screen as it lit up. Glancing at the older man out the corner of her eye, she forced herself to adopt the serene posture she'd mastered so long ago. "Besides, there's nothing to worry about."

Deliberately, she turned her attention to her computer, muttering how she would meet him later to discuss her findings on the Albany branch. She did not turn back when he blew out a muffled groan and the thumping steps faded away, leaving her in the privacy she desired.

 **xXxXxXx**

At the mailboxes, the only warning Holly received about their arrival was the stamping feet of Jamie, his little legs propelling him quickly into the building while his dad held open the door. The brunette had enjoyed her day out with Darcy, going to the various local businesses and distributing the first round of updated literature. The posts they'd made with their toted books were garnering a fair amount of attention online, and it could only bode well for the future. Once she was back in the building, though, she'd had something else to look forward to, and it had come charging right at her.

Well, that and the fellow following behind the little guy running up to her.

"Holly, guess what?" Jamie Rogers whooped, hopping up and down at her side. Giving a quick laugh, she bent down and took the waving hand he thrust at her, swinging it slightly as he bounced.

"What, short stack?" she inquired, after directing a smile and hello to Steve. The boy could often be excitable, and in that instant, he was practically tumbling with it.

"Auntie Nat is home!" he crowed, his smile wide as he swung their joined hands a little harder. "She's gonna see me on Saturday."

Holly continued to grin at him, but she felt the slight twist and slide in her gut.

"That's great. What are you going to do?" she wondered, flashing a brief look up at Steve. The older man kept quiet as the boy babbled about the museum his surrogate aunt had picked out, how it was full of spy stuff and how they were going to pretend to be spies while there. The brunette whistled low in approval of the plans. "I bet you guys will have a lot of fun."

When Jamie bobbed his head eagerly, she risked another glance at Steve, who was maintaining a half-grin.

"And Nat is an old friend, right?" she inquired then, causing the blond man to nod.

"Yep. Grade school buddies," he confirmed, a fond smile coming to his lips. Holly didn't say anything in response to that, and just backed away from the bank of mailboxes so he could go to his. Clearing his throat, he professed, "She, uh, helped me get my job when Peggy and I moved down here. She's the marketing director at Shield Advertising."

Holly blinked at that. Combined with the picture he'd shown her once (after her night out, she'd expressed interest in whoever "Auntie Nat" was with her make-up, and he'd obliged), she was taken aback by the apparent professionalism that the other woman carried.

"Wow," she exhaled, fingers tapping along the envelopes she had in hand and swinging Jamie's arm again when he insisted. "Awesome for her."

Steve turned back to her, adjusting the strap on his work bag before taking Jamie's other hand in his. The two adults began the march up to the second floor, their pace slower as the boy decided to flop and wander from side to side once they'd reached the landing.

"Yeah. She's been out of town the last couple of months, helping secure one of the new branches opening in Albany. It's good to have her back."

"I bet," Holly intoned, hit harder with the unwelcome sensation in her chest and stomach. The flash inside her had her closing her eyes briefly as she continued to walk with them. Much as Darcy loved to poke fun over her denial of what was happening between her and Steve, she understood all too well the actual state of her feelings. He'd been growing on her little by little with every text conversation, with every meeting at the mailbox and on the playground outside. She carried affection for both him and his son, but Steve struck her in a way she could not recall being struck before. Therefore, it was unsurprising to feel the twinges of jealousy flare up, even as she chided herself for doing so. Steve was not beholden to her; he had a life and friends before he'd ever met her, and she did not begrudge him that in the slightest.

As they arrived outside her door, she gave Jamie's fingers a tiny squeeze. Grinning sparsely, she implored, "You'll have to tell me all about it the next time I see you guys."

The calmness she exuded was not exactly solid, and the man walking with her could see through it. However, he did not understand what had jarred her.

"Yeah," he replied, his forehead furrowing in concern. In answer, she attempted another grin, lifting a shoulder and brushing it off. Jamie also glanced up, some of his enthusiasm draining away when he realized they had arrived at Holly's door. Releasing his father's hand, he wrapped his arms around Holly's legs, engulfing them in a tight hug. Her grin became a touch wistful and genuine, and she combed her fingers carefully through the golden blond threads of his hair.

"Good night Jamie," she bid the boy, bending and patting his back. When the little guy released her legs, she stepped closer to the closed panel of her apartment, grabbing out her keys and flashing a final look to the older man as well. "Night, Steve."

Steve started at the farewell, his musings on her state of mind halting when he realized she was going to go in. His hand flew up on its own volition, curling around the crook of her elbow. Halting her, he did not pause to think about his next actions. As she opened her mouth to say something, he curled an arm around her, low on her waist and pulling her in for a hug. She stiffened for the barest moment before her own arm wrapped around his neck. The scents of vanilla and sandalwood, shared from each other, mixed faintly around them for the seconds passed in that fashion.

"Good night, Holly," Steve murmured, the pressure of his hug increasing slightly before he finally let her go. Taking in deep breaths to steady his own nerves, he was met with a small grin and a tiny nod. Within moments, Holly had unlocked her door and stepped inside, leaving the two fellows behind. It took several insistent tugs from Jamie on his hand to bring him back to reality, but Steve soon enough coughed and led the way back to their home, his heart thumping as they went.

On the other side of the door, Holly leaned back against it, listening as the tread of feet moved away. She bit her lip, her head and heart swirling with differing emotions for several minutes. Inhaling deeply, she eventually pushed away from the panels, her fingers closing around her cell phone as she directed herself to the kitchen and to making dinner.

 **xXxXxXx**

According the plan struck up with Natasha, Steve bundled Jamie into his SUV late in the morning on Saturday, the four-year-old practically bouncing off the walls on the way down. As they passed the door to #207, the older man couldn't help glance at it, his free hand tucking into his pocket and fiddling with the phone perched there. Though it had been a few days since her strange reaction, he still was concerned for Holly. Something deep inside nagged at him, shouting at him that he knew the reason, but he could not figure it out. And even so, she was well enough the next day when they saw her again, and her texts had not paused in between those times. Inwardly, he resolved that she would be well enough in the meantime, and he would get to the bottom of it eventually.

Cutting across the city, he parked the SUV in a public lot just a few blocks down from the International Spy Museum, the chosen venue for Jamie to reconnect with his Auntie Nat. He had chattered the whole ride, barely stopping to sip from the travel cup his dad had brought along for him as they drove. Steve smirked to himself as he unloaded the boy from the car; the little guy always missed his aunts and uncles dearly when they were away (he knew for a fact Jamie would likely be asking after Uncle Bucky next once the day was done), and he couldn't get enough of their company when they were around. It would be good for him, and Natasha, too. The redhead seemed to thrive around children, and Jamie especially. As it turned out, she was waiting for them in front of the bricked building, the stately facade framing her as she smiled and waved to them down the block. Hellos and admissions were paid, and soon enough they were inside.

The museum stretched out over a couple of floors, the wide displays of espionage and intrigue light with slashed lighting. Old pieces of equipment, including miniature recording devices and a shoe phone, sat along once side, while interactive displays were interspersed between them. There were plenty of families there as well, kids getting into the hands-on displays alongside the adults. Pamphlets were handed out, filled with false documents and information on several possible spies. At the end of the booklet, the answer to who was the actual spy inside was written, and it was a game to guess while they went through the museum.

Steve was having fun, with his friend and his boy, as well as over the phone. Holly had dared to tease him about brushing up on his sneaking strategies for the next time he played dragon, and he'd retorted that he needed no such thing. Instead, he countered that perhaps he were looking into a new line of work, to which she'd sent one back that said she didn't believe him. Likening his sneaking skill to that of Agent Smart, she'd swiftly sent him a video of the old television show the had been bootlegged onto YouTube. Cupping a hand over his mouth, he just managed to silence it before it could play out in the middle of the museum.

The redheaded beauty, though, did manage to catch him in the act.

"What's so funny?" she wondered when she discovered him straggling behind her and his son. Hastily, Steve tucked his phone back into his pocket, his grin staying as his chuckling petered off.

"Oh, just...Holly sent me a video," he explained, the pleasure in his eyes poorly hidden. "I checked it out pretty fast, it's done."

Natasha, however, was having none of his maneuvering.

"Really?" she retorted, affixing a knowing look on him. "Is she the one you've been texting on and off since we've gotten here?"

Steve had the grace to look a little chagrined, but he still held his ground despite that.

"Just when we're between exhibits," he countered, which Natasha had to concede was true. Every time a message had come in for him, he did wait until they'd moved on, or Jamie found something new to look at and had a question. Nudging her with his elbow, he murmured, "Figured you wouldn't mind having a little bit of extra time with the little guy, Auntie."

She snickered at that, her hand brushing through the air.

"Right. Auntie Nat needed a few moments here and there," she supplied, shaking her head and inhaling sharply before bending at the waist. Opening her pamphlet, she spoke in a mock whisper to Jamie, "So, help me out, kiddo: who do you think is the spy?"

Brown eyes narrowed in on the suspects in her handout, Jamie's little brow furrowing for several seconds. Decidedly, he pointed at one in the top row, just in from the corner.

"That guy!"

The redhead clicked her tongue. "Why?"

Jamie glanced up at her dubiously. "'Cause he looks like one."

Brightness glittered across Nat's irises, but she held back her own observations.

"Maybe," she replied aloud, nodding to the young boy. "I'll take another look at the file, and let you know."

Conceding to her plan, Jamie trotted ahead to the next display, gazing at the buttonhole camera and sheets of photographs pinned around it. From beside her, she could hear the older Rogers' snickering. When she turned back to look at him, she was met with a deadpan expression.

"You already had it figured it before you asked, huh?" Steve remarked wryly, receiving confirmation when his old friend smirked and tapped a finger against a picture in the bottom row. Snorting, the blond man muttered, "Should've been a spy."

Brushing back one of her loose curls, Natasha tilted her head. "In another lifetime, I probably would have been."

Steve gave her a fast grin just as Jamie stormed up to him. Grabbing his hand, he towed his father toward an interactive exhibit wherein the children were given the chance to slip and spy around a sort of obstacle course. Natasha watched them proceed ahead of her, a soft sigh breathed out her nose. As enjoyable as the afternoon was turning out to be, she felt the now-familiar ache resting in her chest.

It hadn't always been that way. In fact, for most of their childhood, she'd not given Steve that much thought. He was just one of her friends, one of the few she had navigated through school with and came out with something lasting. And when their paths separated to different colleges and different posts, she'd maintained a certain fondness for him. It never preceded past companionship and friendship, and she had not thought it ever would.

In the last few years, though, it had taken a turn. After helping him survive the loss of his wife, his love, she'd caught herself looking at Steve in a different light. She'd seen the vulnerable man beneath the towering exterior, the truth of him exposed in a way she had not thought possible. It had been so gradual, Natasha had not known when she'd developed more-than-friendly feelings for him, but it had happened.

Still, it had seemed Steve was no closer to coming to a similar conclusion about her than he had been in the past. However, she was never one to give up easily, and she had thought to at least give it another try. Asserting her place in his life again, in Jamie's life, wouldn't do any of them any wrong. And she still had fun when she was with the little guy, as well, so it wasn't a hardship for her.

Her silent suppositions were interrupted by Jamie when he called her over to check out one of the displays, and she shook her head at herself, forcing herself to focus on the present moment.

The rest of the afternoon seemed to filter by in a flash, with the Rogers boys taking Natasha back home with them. She'd expressed a wish to see the apartment, make sure the two fellows were indeed getting along well enough there, her furtive glance flicking around the hall as they moved. When they'd entered the homey suite, she made a beeline for the couch, pulling her feet up and reclining on the lounge part of it.

"So, you boys want to do dinner? Pizza and a movie?" she recommended, noting the time on the clock and her stomach starting to growl. Jamie who had just been given some animal crackers by his father to tide him over, started to hop up and down.

"Pizza, pizza!" he cheered, flashing a toothy grin to Steve when the older man followed him into the living room. The blond man sat down on the other end of the sofa, inclining his head after a few moments.

"Sure." As he agreed, his blue eyes lit up as he thought of something else. "Oh, let me ring up Sam and the others; they'll want to see you, too."

Natasha leaned back into the cushion, tapping a thumb against her arm as she crossed it with the other.

"Ah, well, I don't know. Not sure I'm ready for the big crowd."

"C'mon, we gotta welcome you home properly," he cajoled her, spreading his arms wide. Tipping her head up, she furrowed her brow in mock thought for a few seconds, an unbidden grin forcing its way onto her lips.

"Well...alright, let's do it," she told him, earning another smile as he tapped through his phone. As Jamie occupied himself with the toys from the living room buckets, Steve and Nat made a few calls, confirming that their group of friends could make it in for the evening. It wouldn't be anything crazy, but it would allow the returned young woman the chance to touch base with her friends once more. When she'd finished with her final call, she noticed Steve tapping his fingers against the arm of the couch, mulling over something. The corner of her mouth lifted, and she flapped a hand at him, gesturing for him to spill.

Hooking a thumb at the front door, he asked, "Do you mind if I invite Holly? I think you two would really hit it off."

At once, Natasha could feel her good mood begin to deflate. Outwardly, she tipped her head to the side and kept her expression placid.

"To an impromptu party with a bunch of strangers she doesn't know?" she inquired, polite concern lacing her tone. To that, Steve merely shrugged and scratched the back of his neck.

"She knows Sam, and she'll be in the same boat as his new girlfriend. She'll be fine. If she wants to, that is."

It was then that the redhead could see the want under the diffidence, and despite everything, she didn't have the heart to refuse him. Not verbally, at least.

"If you want, go ahead and ask her," she said, inwardly pleading for him to truly hear her distaste. However, it seemed to fall upon deaf ears, as Steve immediately sent off the text.

Within the next hour, the apartment in Georgetown was filled with a good portion of Natasha's friends, pizza and sodas split up among them all. Sam had indeed come, his new girlfriend Kay making her acquaintance right away. Pietro Maximoff had swung a night off of bartending, despite it being a Saturday, with his sister Wanda and her boyfriend. Tony Stark had also merited an invitation, his fiancee Pepper on his arm as they swanned into the building. Music played softly when the radio was turned on, and Jamie was running from one person to the next, so happy to see so many people he knew and liked.

And, as Steve had wished, the Holly girl had come, too. Natasha had managed a decent enough hello for her, and she had indicated an interest in the bag of candy she'd brought with (Lindt chocolates, which Romanoff had chalked up as not playing fair). The girl was unobtrusive, not forcing herself onto Nat but offering conversation when they happened to be around each other. For the most part, though, Natasha kept herself occupied with exchanging words with her other friends, sinking deeper into the couch and devouring the pizza that happened to be set before her.

"Hey, kid," Tony greeted her once again, flopping onto the couch beside her unceremoniously an hour after his arrival. Inclining his head at her, he took a fast swallow of his drink before asking, "How was your outing?"

Natasha threw him a fast glance, running a finger around the rim of her cup. "Enlightening."

The older man nodded, the creases at the corners of his eyes deepening as he examined her. "Maybe a little heartbreaking, too."

The redhead scoffed audibly, tossing her short curls fluidly.

"As if," she groused, snatching up the last bit of her pizza and chewing it methodically. A flicker of movement caught her attention, and she glanced over as Holly threaded between people, nodding and grinning as she went. Arching an eyebrow, Natasha leaned closer to Tony, swallowing and mouthing quietly, "She's sort of Plain Jane, isn't she?"

Following her gaze, she was dissatisfied to see the brunet man lift a shoulder diffidently.

"Well, I mean I'm hardly an unbiased party. My girl's always gonna be the best to me," he shot back, smirking at his fiancee as she chatted to Pietro about cocktail recipes. His dark gaze flicked back to the young woman they were discussing, and he canted his head. "But eh, the Holly chick seems nice. Truth be told, Rogers has sort of been a bit more upbeat since they've been hanging out. Less stick-up-his-ass. Like when..."

He trailed off then, his gaze dropping to his knees and his fingers plucking at the outer hem of his slacks. At the implication in his words, Natasha's eyebrows nearly hit her hairline.

"Really? I mean, he was excited to have her come over, and he was texting her a lot while we were all out—which seemed kind of rude, to be honest. But really, you think it's close to how it was with...?"

She let the question hang, and Tony let out a slow sigh. Drinking deeply from his own cup, he tipped it away from himself after a second or two.

"Look at them for a moment," he suggested, raising a hand to stem the scoffing denial the redhead beside him had on the tip of her tongue. "Take off the green-colored glasses and really look."

Rolling her eyes, Natasha let out a huffing breath as she sipped from her cup. As she did so, though, her gaze did wander to the far end of the room. Steve was leaning against the wall, with Holly standing before him. Due to the music playing the background and the myriad conversations echoing around the apartment, she could not hear what the two were talking about. Still, it seemed pleasant enough, given that Steve was smiling brightly while Holly spoke. After a couple of moments, he barked out a laugh, his dorky chortles cutting through the air as he threw his head back. The brunette in front of him sported a look of hilarity and surprise, her mouth wide as she murmured something else. Her fingers reached out, poking him in the side, and he flinched a bit even as he laughed. Grabbing at her wrists when she attempted to continue tickling him, he attempted to retaliate, the pair of them coming to a bypass when they each pinned one hand of the other's down. Their actions had drawn them closer together, the outer world seemingly ignored as Steve looked down at Holly, the brightness in his features blinding. For a few moments, Natasha couldn't understand what was different about his exchange with her. That it was different struck her, but why?

It was his eyes; she realized it when the young brunette tipped her chin up at him, earning another grin for the effort. The guarded look that he'd perfected over the years—which allowed to get through bullying, basic training, and new job hazing without giving away too much of himself—was not present as he spoke to Holly. The innate honesty in him had tripled, and he looked far happier than she could recall. Not even the afternoon spent at the museum had gotten him to that level.

The last time Nat had seen him that thrilled and pleased was when Peggy was still alive. And from what she could see, the young woman before him was reflecting it right back, unknowingly or not.

A pang ripped through her then as she realized he never looked that way at her, not once in the last year she'd been harboring feelings for him. She was his friend, his pal from the playground, and his work colleague, but...it was likely that was all she would ever be to him.

At that moment, Jamie tore across the room to his father, tugging at his pant leg and Holly's free hand to draw them away from the wall, and they complied, sharing a swift smile as they walked. Natasha blinked at the empty spot of wall after they'd moved, inhaling sharply against the hard twist in her stomach.

"Oh," she managed to say, cursing the abandonment of her articulation in that moment. Looking at Tony, she watched as he nodded, his own expression creasing.

"Yeah," he replied. Tapping a thumb along the side of his cup, he shook his head. "I told you to be careful, girlie."

Natasha cleared her throat once, twice, grabbing at a couple slices still in the pizza box on the coffee table and shoveling them onto her plate. Clenching a clean napkin afterward, she pushed down the rapidly surfacing defeat in her chest and tossed the balled-up paper aside.

"I'm gone a couple months, and she just..." she trailed off, focusing on the cup in her hand. Lifting a shoulder, she mumbled, "Without even trying."

Stark patted her back then, a muted wince of sympathy decorating his features.

"Between the right people, it can be that easy," he stated softly, the bluntness smoothed by his kind tone. When she glanced up at him, with the storm in her ocean-colored eyes brewing, he continued to pat her back. He understood where she was coming from. Though it hadn't happened often, he had been on the unfortunate side of unrequited feelings, and knew how much it could hurt to be rejected, even unwittingly. However, it would not do the young woman beside him any good to dwell too hard on it. Clearing his throat, he asked after several minutes, "So what are you gonna do now?"

It took several deep, long breaths before Natasha could sit up straight, her serene and brittle expression overtaking her features.

"Currently, I am drinking this soda, eating pizza, and am surrounded by friends," she told him, lifting the cup again and nodding to the others milling around. She was thankful for the fact that, besides Tony, none of the others had seen the distress that had threatened to swamp her in that moment. Forcing a corner of her mouth to rise, she continued, "Still Auntie Nat, home again. On Monday, I'll continue doing my part to keep one of your companies at the forefront of the advertising world."

Stark gave a short hum at that, and lifted a shoulder.

"And after that?"

Unconsciously, her gaze strayed across the room, between the moving bodies to where Steve was kneeling on the ground, passing a bucket of crayons and a coloring book into his son's grasp, Holly ruffling the little guy's hair as he smiled and darted over to his small table in the corner. As the two adults rose to their feet, the blond man slid a hand to the small of the brunette woman's back, steadying her with a grin and a flush filtering into both their faces. Deflated inside, Natasha shook her head.

"I'll figure it out," she muttered, tapping her cup against Tony's and the two indulging in a long sip. She would figure everything out, one way or another, now that she understood where she truly stood. It would not be simple, but she knew herself, knew that she would go on. Somehow.

* * *

 **A/N:** Wow, this chapter came out fast! Guess I felt inspired to write quickly this time around. Even if it was a bit difficult to get through, on a few personal levels...

So we got a little drama this time around, but hopefully it won't put you all off terribly. Thanks to one of you lovely readers, I chose to try my hand at Nat being the holder of an unrequited crush on Steve, rather than acting purely as a friend and defender. I'm not sure I did it justice, but eh, I tried.

The circling is getting tighter, y'all...so close, so close...

The International Spy Museum in Washington, D.C. looks so freaking cool. I want to go there so badly after working on this chapter! I did stretch the truth of their pamphlet content a bit, but I don't think it detracts at all.

I don't know how soon the next chapter will be out, but we'll see. You can tide yourselves over with my other ongoing story _Darkest Before Dawn_ , or one of the one-shot spin-offs of that universe called _Heart and Home_ (it's based on Sam, who definitely deserves more fics about him).

I own nothing from the MCU, nor do I own any other pop cultures references (Marvel comics, Lindt chocolate, _Get Smart_ , etc.).

Thanks for reading, please review, and I'll see you all for the next one!


	6. Chapter 6

The third Saturday in June had dawned in Washington, D.C., and it had turned out to be a rather lovely morning. There were no storms on the horizon, the heat for that time of year was bearable—the humidity wasn't, but that could be dealt with—and summer was well on its way.

With it being Saturday, Holly did not have to report in for work. Instead, she had woken with the intention of returning a couple of movies she had borrowed from her neighbor, Steve. Her friend, Steve, her mind amended, but her heart thumped hard in protest even to that term. A delightful flush spread through her as she thought about it, about him, and she couldn't help but grin to herself. However, she audibly cleared her throat at herself in the mirror when she realized she'd been staring off into space for too long, the morning wiling away while she puttered around dressing and cleaning herself up. She had a task to see to, and she would get it done.

Once she'd finished donning her clothes and taming her hair into a ponytail, she palmed a couple of DVD cases that were sitting neatly on her television stand. After the party Steve had thrown for his friend Natasha a couple of weeks back, she'd borrowed them, and had every intention of returning them once she'd finished. She'd taken her time with them, something Steve teased her about over text and when they met at the mailboxes, but he reassured her there was no rush to return them. However, she had finally watch the second one the night before, and was going to keep her promise.

And, with it being mid-morning on a weekend, it wouldn't hurt to see if perhaps he and his boy would be inclined to go out and do something with her, if they had a free moment. She wouldn't mind, certainly. Locking up her apartment door behind her, she strode the few feet down to Steve's door, knocking resolutely and bouncing on the balls of her feet.

However, when the door finally opened, it wasn't Steve or Jamie ushering her in.

"Oh!" Holly gasped, just stopping short on the threshold as she looked up at the fellow. Sam Wilson was there, hands tucking into pockets and his booted foot sliding past a small gym bag on the floor.

"Sorry," he replied with a smirk, a hand passing over his cropped dark hair. "I didn't think anybody else would be showing up here today."

"Sam," she greeted him, accepting a one-armed hug from him before stepping fully into the apartment. Casting a furtive gaze around the dining area, she stated bluntly, "Didn't think you'd be here."

A rueful look graced his features, and he scoffed, "Yeah, well, there's a good reason for it. What brings you by?"

Her brow creased, and she looked around the apartment. It was quiet, almost suspiciously quiet for a Saturday morning there. Where was Jamie? Where was Steve?

"Just returning a couple of movies I borrowed a few days ago," she told him, holding up the cases and rattling them for effect. The crease in her brow had not dissipated, and she glanced around him to the rest of the apartment. A spike of dread was piercing through her then, and she had to be sure whether things were okay or not. "What's going on? Is something wrong?"

A bright voice cried out then, stemming Sam's response. "Holly!"

"Kiddo," she greeted Jamie as he came into the room, the corner of her mouth raising as she knelt down and hugged him.

"Guess what?" the blond boy bid her, but before she could open her mouth to do so, he flapped a hand in the air. "Uncle Sammy came to pick me up. Daddy's sick, so I hafta go stay with him for a while."

"He is?" Holly wondered, thinking back to the previous evening at the mailboxes. She hadn't thought Steve had looked ill, but he did appear very tired when he and Jamie had come home. He must have been hiding it; he probably had perfected such a technique over the years so that he would appear well to his son. As a single dad, he likely didn't think he could afford to be sick. Glancing up at Sam, the other man nodded confirmation.

"He has a nasty flu and fever that's going around his office. It hit him hard last night, apparently, but I'm banking on him having been limping through the beginnings of it for a couple of days already," he said, the long-suffering tone of his voice telling her this was nothing new to him. Patting his pocket where his phone resided, he continued, "He called me a little while ago, asked me to come pick the little man up."

She nodded her head at that, hands going to her hips as she straightened in her stance. As she was biting her lip in thought, Sam turned to Jamie.

"Jay, you want to go grab your bag, bud?" he instructed the boy. Jamie nodded vigorously before dashing away, causing his uncle to shout after him. "And make sure you don't forget your toothbrush!"

Rustling and creaking doors echoed out to them, and the two adults breathed out short sighs. Tapping at Holly's shoulder, Sam waited for her to pull herself out of her reverie and look at him.

"Could you do me a favor, Holly?" he asked her, pulling his keys out of his other pocket and fiddling with them. "Please?"

Tilting her head to the side, she lifted a shoulder. "Um, sure."

Wilson inhaled sharply, lowering his voice a bit so as not to be overheard. "Keep an eye on Steve, will you? It's been a long time since he's been this sick, and knowing him, he's going to try and power through it on his own. I don't want that to happen, especially if it gets any worse. He doesn't get taken down often these days, but when he is, it's like watching a tranqued elephant trying to cope."

Though the mental visual in her head of his words was rather funny, Holly did restrain her laughter. Rubbing at the back of her neck, she dipped her chin at Sam.

"I'll, I'll do what I can," she said, unable to promise more than that. A grateful grin stretched over his lips, and he gestured toward her own pocket. Reading his intentions correctly, she pulled out her phone, unlocking it and proffering it to him. Quickly, he began to punch his thumb along the screen.

"Here's my number," he murmured, turning the device to show her before handing it back. Flicking a few fingers toward the hall, he insisted, "Just give me a call if anything changes, good or bad. I'll be around in a couple days or so to check in."

The stamp of little feet crashed down the hall again, and Jamie peeled around the corner, a brightly-colored backpack stuffed to the gills in his arms.

"All ready, Jay?" Sam inquired, chuckling a little at all he had thought to bring.

"Yes, Sammy," the boy stated, smiling at him before looking at Holly. With a fast wave for her to come closer, he barely waited for her to do so before he told her, "I left the next Clifford book in my room, Holly. So I won't start it without you."

Her smile became all the more genuine at that. Ever since his dad had bought him a book from the series, he'd been asking for more, knowing that Holly really liked them, too. Whenever he did chance to get one, he wanted to read it right away, and he always told her about it. He was such a sweet kid, she thought to herself, shoving her phone in her pocket and ruffling his hair fondly.

"Okay, kiddo. You have fun at Sammy's, alright?" she said, casting a fast glance at the other man. Wilson rolled his eyes before jabbing a finger in her direction.

"Sam to you, missy." That said, he grabbed up the small gym bag on the floor, nodding from Jamie to the front door. "Alright, kid, let's head on out."

"'Kay," the little guy said, only to immediately pivot and run back into the apartment. The two adults at the front heard the creak of a door down the hall, and Jamie's voice hushing itself into a whisper that was really a quiet crow. "Bye-bye, Daddy!"

A muffled hum floated out, the words indiscernible to Holly and Sam. Soon enough, the boy was running back to his uncle's side, grabbing up his bag and taking the older man's hand. Shaking his head, Sam bid Holly a final farewell, pressing something into her hand. As he led Jamie down the hall (the child turning and waving to her, which she did back to him), she opened her palm, the rough edges of the object giving it away as the key it was. A house key, she thought, turning it over briefly. Glancing at the interior of the apartment, she realized that Sam had given her his copy of Steve's key, so she could do as he asked.

Sighing quietly, she tucked it into a pocket, casting one more glance at the closed front door before moving into the living room. The movies she'd intended on returning were set down beside the television, and she paused, a little unsure of what to do next. Debating whether to just leave and check back on Steve later, her decision was made when she heard a loud groan coming from the end of the far hall. Her stomach tightened a little at the sound, and her feet automatically took her down to the bedroom at the end. The one room in his apartment that she'd never been in, thus far.

Carefully turning the silver knob and cracking the door open, Holly peered into the bedroom. At first, her eyes had to adjust to the light, the space only illuminated by a lamp. It was little wider and a little longer than Jamie's room, by a couple of feet. Instead of photographs hanging up, several mounted canvases containing domestic and pastoral scenes were on the walls. The room had been painted a light blue, with darker curtains drawn over the windows. A walnut-toned dresser flanked the far wall, matching the end tables on either side of the bed. She blinked, as the bed itself was bigger than her own bed. And there, flopped in the center of it, was Steve, the sheets kicked down and him laying on his stomach. Dark blue sweatpants wrapped around his legs, but a t-shirt was on the floor, joined by a pair of socks. His face was planted into a pillow, arms wrapped underneath it, and he gave another tiny moan as the muscles in his bare back twitched.

Holly swallowed a little at the sight, forcing herself off the thoughts rushing through her brain and back to the matter at hand. Lightly, she tapped at the door panel, entering the room fully.

"Steve?" she ventured in a low voice, wondering if he had fallen asleep since his boy had left. His shoulders tensed, though, at the call of his name, and after a few seconds, he slowly rolled onto his back. She had to swallow again when she could see the full sight of his chest and abdomen, making herself focus on his labored breathing. Trailing her eyes up to his face, she felt a twinge of pity filter through her. Dark circles were under his eyes, his skin paling under the occasional reddening of the fever. Raising himself onto his elbows, his hazy eyes narrowed in on her, and he cocked his head to the left.

"Holl...what...are you..." he huffed, his throat sounding raw and scratchy. Holly bit her lip, recalling that Sam had mentioned he'd been up in the night being sick. If he had been throwing up, like she suspected, it was no wonder he sounded wrecked. Padding into the room, she hooked a thumb toward the door.

"Brought back the movies," she explained, walking right up to his side. "I heard you were sick, wanted to see if you needed anything."

"'Mfine," he grunted, blowing a fast breath out his mouth. As he laid back down, she snorted audibly.

"You look like it," she riposted sardonically, and he gave her a halfhearted glare. Shrugging it off, she sat down on the edge of the mattress, leaning slightly over him and raising her hand. Flicking her gaze toward his hairline, she asked, "Can I?"

Something in his irises glinted below the illness, and he slowly nodded approval. Gently, her palm came to rest on his forehead. The cooler skin upon his made him sigh, and his eyes closed briefly.

"Burning up," she muttered, straightening and taking her hand away. As he barely wrangled back a whine, she hopped up, crossing to the wall and took a look at the air conditioner. "We gotta get your temp down, Steve. The air conditioner on full blast is not gonna change that by itself."

Cloudy blue eyes glanced across the room, the blessed relief of the cold air being spewed from the machine continuing.

"Helps. Kinda," he replied, tiredly tracking her around the room as she began to pace. His thoughts were muddled, but he could appreciate the sweetness of her willingness to help. And also the foolhardiness. Wearing a chagrined look, he murmured, "You should go. You'll get sick, too, if you don't."

Dark brown eyes looked at him, warmed by the small grin on her lips, and he felt his protests die in his throat.

"I'm not just gonna ditch you here," she said softly, pulling out her phone and sliding her finger across the screen. Discreetly, she began to search for countermeasures that could be taken against a fever, shrugging a shoulder at the man in the bed at the same time. "And if I do get sick, well, you'll just have to return the favor."

That somehow got Steve to grin, though it was weak and did not last.

"Guess so," he murmured, eyes closing and his head burrowing into his pillow as he groaned.

Managing a quick smile, Holly shook her head, selecting a list of home remedies that could work. It had been quite awhile since she'd had a fever herself, and while she could vaguely remember sleeping a lot and downing some medications, she couldn't recall much else. A few of the online answers intrigued, and she figured she could give one or two a chance. Spying one that was geared toward lowering the body's temperature, she swiftly darted out and around the apartment, looking through the closets until she found what she was looking for. In the hall closet rested a simple box fan, which would fit the bill for cooling Steve down. It wouldn't be perfect, she considered inwardly as she grabbed a chair for the table and dragged both it and the fan into the bedroom, but it would do. Pushing the chair to face the end of the large bed, she propped the fan on the seat, with it humming to life as she plugged it in and turned the dial. With it going on the medium setting, accompanied by the air conditioning unit in the wall, she had high hopes it would help. For his part, Steve only gave a slight shudder, shifting against his sheets and sighing. That accomplished, she glanced at the list on her phone again, bustling into the bathroom and opening the medicine cabinet behind the mirror. There, she had far better luck, and had taken up the over-the-counter medications that could help. A final run was made into the kitchen, and a fresh glass of water was filled (once she figured out which cupboard held the glasses; why could one never find the cups in another person's home, she wondered).

"Acetaminophen and water to start with," she proclaimed when she made her way back into the bedroom, her voice pitched so that he could hear her above the whir of the fan. Setting down the glass, she shook out a couple pills, placing them down on the end table as well. When he turned his head and cracked one eye open, she felt her slight smirk diminish as she put the pill bottle on the other side of the lamp. Running a hand over her forehead, she muttered, "Hopefully that will stay down long enough to work."

A grimace decorated Steve's lips as he lifted himself onto his elbow, the room shifting around him for a few moments.

"Here's hoping. It'll most likely sit better than anything else I've had recently," he confessed, uncaring in the least if it was too much information. However, when he looked up at Holly, he did not find mild distaste in her features. Instead, there was a measure of contemplation. "What?"

Holly cupped a hand in the air, a corner of her mouth curving. "Just...big guy like you, you don't think will get this sick."

Steve snorted audibly at that, the mental images of himself when he was younger flashing through his mind.

"This was par for the course when I was little. I caught every bug that went around when I was a kid," he noted, a little sadness coming into his voice. "Probably scared my mom half to death every time, too."

"She was a nurse, though, right?" she recalled, knowing she'd heard it some time ago. His mother had passed before Jamie was born, same with his dad, but he still spoke of her on occasion. He dipped his chin, scrubbing a hand over his face.

"Didn't stop her from fussing somethin' fierce," he grumbled, shooting Holly a pointed look. It was dulled, though, by the fever, and short-lived. And, to his surprise, he found himself on the receiving end of one from her mere seconds later.

"Having someone care for you isn't fussing," she retorted, a single finger nudging at the glass of water and her dark gaze flicking over the medicine she brought him. After a moment or two, he deflated, taking up the pills and swallowing them, a drink of water allowing him to swallow them. When he put the glass down, he caught the flash of satisfaction on her face, and he snorted.

"...I know," he mumbled, lowering himself back on the mattress and sinking tiredly against the pillows again. Watching as his eyes fluttered shut, Holly inhaled deeply, reaching out and pulling the sheet over him as he fell asleep. Quietly, she padded over to the door, barely exiting the room before light snoring echoed in the space. She swung the door shut until there was only a sliver of space left between it and the jamb, a resolution setting in her mind. Going back to her place, she grabbed a cloth shopping bag, filling it with a few extra medicines that she had on hand, as well as a couple of easy-to-digest foods from her cupboards. Her work bag was also fetched, with a couple novels slipped in atop her laptop. Grabbing up the chargers for it and her cell phone, she locked up her apartment, intent on at least spending the afternoon in Steve's.

For several hours, it was relatively silent, with the taps at her computer's keyboard and the random giggles smothered in her chest from watching videos breaking it up. Every now and again, Holly would go into Steve's bedroom, finding him either sleeping or drinking deeply from his water cup, one of her books left for him by his cell phone. When she was out in the main area, she would also attempt to work on a couple of ideas she and Darcy had discussed during the week, glancing up to keep an eye on the sick man as he pushed and shunted his way to the bathroom on and off. It was mid-afternoon when she chanced a look at the clock, deciding they both could get some food in them. Closing her laptop, she left the dining area and inspected the kitchen. There were a few good eats within, enough to work with for him, and she pulled down a few options before striding back to the bedroom. Her two-tap knock resounded slightly, and he call out for her to enter.

"Hey, you," she said as she poked her head through the door gap, smiling when he managed a wan one for her. Sidling into the room and resting against the wall by the door, she asked, "Think you can stomach some lunch? Maybe toast?"

"Maybe," he intoned, his eyes sliding almost guiltily to the hall. "Gotta make a stop, first."

Making the inference, Holly did no more than wrinkle her nose and shake her head. The bathroom had, inevitably, become one of the most prized rooms in the apartment that day, for good reason. She wasn't going to bust his chops over it, not when it was sorely needed.

"Okay," she replied, keeping an eye on him as he scooted to the edge of the mattress, long legs shakily holding him up as he stood. He stumbled a bit on the cross over, catching himself before he could crash into her. Quickly, Holly flattened herself on the wall, to minimize the possible crash, but she breathed a sigh of relief when he caught himself. As he braced an arm beside her head, she in turn laid her hands on his shoulders, blinking up at him. "Woah, steady there, cowboy."

He might have been sweaty, and pale, and his breath blew out slightly sour, but it was his closeness to her that nearly had Holly shaking. Being over six feet tall, and well-built, was not something she could ignore about him, even if he was ill.

"Sorry," he crowed, leaning his head against his bracing forearm and closing his eyes. "Got a little dizzy."

"It's alright," she told him, her voice coming out a bit breathy when his other hand cupped at her hip. Clearing her throat, she gently pushed back on his shoulders, making him shift enough to let her out. Taking his arm, she looped it over her shoulders, locking one of her own around his waist and steering him toward the hall. "C'mon, big guy." It was only a few short steps until they were in front of the bathroom, and she glanced up at him. Moving her palm up to pat his back, she ducked away from him when he balanced himself on the jamb of the room, and giggled. "Try not to pass out in there, okay?"

A soft chuckle pushed out of him then. "I'll do my best."

She let him be then, the flush of heat that had invaded her face settling as she began to assemble something close to a meal. Toast did seem to be the most Steve could handle at the moment, and his appetite was limited as it was. He'd limped his way over to the couch, hunkering down with all the blankets laid out along the back of it, stretching out on the lounge part of it and chewing slowly. Despite knowing that chicken noodle soup really primarily aided with colds, Holly also threw in a couple of cans of the stuff in a pot, indulging in a bit herself before refrigerating the rest once he was ready to upgrade.

"You need anything else?" she asked as the day began to slide toward night. Her gaze lit upon the entertainment system, and she wondered, "How about a movie or something?"

Steve shrugged, pushing himself to sit up a little. "My eyes kinda hurt. But the noise might help me sleep some more. Not sure I can get used to the quiet."

Snickering, Holly strode over to the drawers of the television stand and began to search through them. "Jamie already throwing some swingin' parties here while I'm not around?"

Steve's mouth curved, and he stated, "Nah, just...when you live with a kid, you can't really trust silence. It either means something happened or something's about to happen."

Attempting a sage look, he could only hold it for a few moments. Holly shook her head, hooking a thumbs-up at him.

"Gotcha. Well, let's find something that's on a four and a half-year-old's decibel level so that you won't worry."

"So something akin to low-flying aircraft then," Steve returned, a bit of gladness flooding him when she laughed outright. Leaning his head back against the couch cushion, he muttered, "Jamie's a good kid, but, well—"

"He's still a kid. They'll be noisy at times, I get it. My niece Jodie can be the same way, especially when she's excited about something," Holly retorted, reminding him of her own experiences with children under the age of ten. Pawing in the drawers for another minute or two, she gave out a gasp in pleasure, sweeping up two selections and holding them up. "Now, _Star Wars_ or _Indiana Jones_?"

Steve scoffed and rolled his eyes. "Since when do I only have two movies to choose from?"

"Since three seconds ago. One or the other, mister," she teased him, getting to her feet and bringing the DVD boxes over to him. Holding them out expectantly, she waited as his bright eyes bobbed between the two selections. With a final glance up at her, he tapped a finger against the one for _A New Hope_. A bloom of warmth radiated through her, something inside telling her that, despite being the sick one, he still chose one that he knew she would like as well. Grinning broadly, she dropped the case for _Raiders of the Lost Ark_ on the side table, ready to be picked up once the first movie was over. Tripping back to the player, she gave him a pleased smile and complimented, "Good choice."

As she went around to dim the lights, his gaze remained on her, half-lidded though it was.

"Are you gonna watch, too?" he wondered, attempting nonchalance in his tone.

She shrugged, smiling gently at him. "If you don't mind me sticking around a little longer."

"Not at all," he replied quickly, an altogether different burn flushing up his face and neck when her smile broadened. When she went to sit down on the other end of the couch, she paused, glancing over at him once more. After a second or two, she marched over to his end, sitting on the cushion next to the lounge piece. Sitting cross-legged, she reached over and drew a pillow onto her lap, giving him an encouraging nod as the opening scroll for the move started to climb up the screen. The flush on his skin deepened, but he was all too glad to have her next to him, sick and gross as he thought himself to be. Before long, he was hunkering down in the seat, eyes shutting as he leaned and laid his head on the pillow in her lap. It took a little adjustment, but eventually, he was able to doze comfortably, her arm resting along his shoulder as he slept.

Steve didn't know how late it was when he woke up again, but he knew it was well after dark, considering the lack of light coming through the windows and the gloom of the apartment itself. The DVD player had long since shut off, as had the television, but one of the lamps had remained on. The soft glow of it cascaded and bled over the arm of the sofa, across his blanket-swathed body, to...

Lifting his head, his eyes widened when he realized what else had remained since he'd fallen asleep. Holly had stayed through the movie, like she said she would, and had not returned home. In fact, it had seemed that she hadn't even left his side. Somehow, in the midst of his sleep (or an episode of him being functional, but barely conscious), she had found a way to nudge them both into a slightly more comfortable position. She had joined him on the lounge, but he had shifted down so that his head was resting on her stomach, her upper body propped up into more of a sitting position and her head lolling to the left on a carefully-tucked throw pillow. His feet were dangling off the edge of the lounge, and they were both cramped, but...he couldn't bring himself to care. Not when she was still there with him.

 _'She stayed. I can't believe she...'_ he gaped inwardly, looking down at the woman beside him. Another sharp pang twitched in his chest, but he shook his head, not letting it get the best of him. She'd taken care of him, and she stayed, his mind repeated over and over for several long moments, exhaustion bleeding into his form bit by bit.

Unable, and unwilling, to rock the boat, he carefully lowered himself back down. His head rested on her stomach again, but that time, he let an arm worm loose from his coverings, curling it around her waist slightly. Holly continued to slumber, wriggling only a little to accommodate the change, and he sighed out his nose, letting the waves of sleep take him under once more.

(Part of Steve would wonder when, in the morning, he'd woken up by himself, if it had actually happened. That part was assuaged when Holly had obviously stretched out her back bringing him some breakfast, and she shot him a little secretive smile that stayed with him as he convalesced the rest of the day.)

 **xXxXxXx**

Naturally, when Monday rolled around, Holly could not stay with Steve and watch out for him. Still, by then he felt significantly better, and could reassure her that he would be fine on his own. Instead, he supplemented her with text messages (in between checking in with Sam and calls from Jamie, who kept begging him to let him come home), filling his day off from his own job as best he could with sending her silly pictures and general observations of daytime television. She'd responded in kind, and it helped to pass the long hours at home. When she stopped in after work, she could clearly see he was on the mend, declaring him fit to be on his own that night. Thanking her for her prognosis, he couldn't help but feel a little lost when she went back to her own apartment to sleep.

Tuesday was his last day of sick leave that he was willing to take, and while he was not at full strength yet, he felt far better than he had on Saturday. He thanked goodness for it; for all his immune system was wrecked when he was younger, it had seemed to repair and regenerate a lot faster in adulthood. By the evening, when he went down to check the mail, he was almost ready to start whistling a happy tune, so pleased was he with his recovery.

"Feeling better, I see," came a voice from behind him. An unbidden smile crept upon his lips, and he turned in time to see Holly approach the bank of mailboxes. She strode slowly forward, which struck him as odd, but her own answering grin remained, so he brushed past it.

"Yeah, I am. Thanks to you," he stated plainly, gratefulness outlining his words. Playfully, Holly chuckled and rolled her eyes, opening her box and retrieving the set of mailers that had been shoved into all of them.

"Yeah, go me for forcing you to take a couple pills every now and again."

"C'mon, it was more than that," Steve contradicted her, laying a hand on her shoulder. He believed in giving credit where credit was due, and Holly had built up credit with him over the last couple of days. When she looked up at him again, he let his gratitude show fully, every bit of it outlining his features. "Really, Holly. I appreciate the help you gave me."

She blinked a few times, before a slow, beautiful smile he couldn't recall seeing before took over her lips.

"You're welcome," she told him, her free hand coming up and patting at his waist. They stood suspended in the moment for several seconds, neither of them moving. Soon enough, she was clearing her throat and ducking her head slightly, paging through the mailers without seeing. "So, is Jamie still at Sam's? I've missed him the last few days."

Steve snorted, letting his hand fall down to his side. "You're telling me. Actually, he's sleeping over at his friend Cassie's tonight. Her dad thought it would be fun for them...and he gave me one more grace day for being sick."

The flush that had crawled into Holly's face remained, but she still nodded tiredly at his words.

"Nice of him. Nice of them all, really," she said, turning to head for the stairwell. Her steps were a mite unsteady, and Steve's bright gaze locked onto her as she trod along.

"Definitely," he agreed softly, watching as she went ahead of him. However, when she reached the first step, she sidled sideways, driving her shoulder into the wall. Swiftly, he came up behind her, a bracing hand along her back and the other grabbing her hand as she tried again. "Woah, there, Princess."

Shaking her head, she closed her eyes, snickering ruefully. "Sorry, long day."

The suspicion that had been forming in his mind solidified then, and he carefully persuaded her to turn and rest her back against the wall.

"Sure. Hold still," he commanded softly, his larger palm pressing against her forehead. Feeling the heightened heat along the skin, he clicked his tongue when he moved it to cup her cheek. "Too warm. I told you, you were gonna get sick."

At once she shook her head, which caused her to shift a little off-balance.

"Pssh, I'm fine. I always loll like this."

He shot her a deadpan look, one he maintained until she looked up at him again.

"Uh-huh," he riposted, taking the initiative and looping his arm around her waist, the pink tinge of his ears ignored as he started to walk her up to the second floor. "Let's get you upstairs. Because if you do have what I had, you're gonna want to be in the vicinity of certain rooms very, very soon."

Remembering the truth of that statement as well, Holly groaned, "Great."

Still, her arms curled around him as they walked, and she dutifully handed him her keys when he asked. Entering her home, he walked her to her bedroom, her work bag dropped as they went. Once they'd gotten to the space—the walls were still the white they had been upon move-in, but green bedding spread over the queen-sized mattress and the framed photos on the walls made it welcoming—he'd left her to change, choosing to take an inventory of what she had to combat the illness he'd spread to her.

(He hadn't managed to escape before she started tugging up her shirt, her back having turned to him when he said he would go. The pale skin of her lower back was exposed and drew him in, made his mouth run a little dry. His upstairs brain broke through before too long, and he beat a hasty retreat before the shirt was fully off and she could spot him gawking at her.)

Some leftover medicine was spread along the counter, not having been put back yet since his episode with sickness, and she did have a few easy foods to ingest. It wouldn't be enough to get her through the next few days, though, and he felt his resolve harden.

Grabbing up a notepad that was magnetized to the fridge, he plucked up a pen from a nearby junk drawer, noting the few things that were low or missing. Deciding that she should have a little input in what he would pick up for her, he strode back to the bedroom, halting and knocking at the door. When there was no answer, he opened it and peeked his head in, a playful smile tugging at his lips. Holly had changed into an old t-shirt and sweats, but she was out cold on the bed, cuddling the spare pillow as she rested. Shaking his head, he glanced down at the list, tearing the paper off the pad and folding it up. Once it was placed in his pocket, he went into the bedroom, scrawling out another note before setting the pad on the nightstand.

 _I'll be back soon; had to run out for supplies. Have to repay my debt.—S._

That in place, he checked her temperature once more with his hand, assessing that it hadn't changed all that much since coming upstairs. Carefully, he grabbed up the edge of the comforter, curling it over her as best he could. Tenderly, Steve tucked back a few stray hairs behind Holly's ear, her sleep undisturbed by the gesture. Dipping his chin once more, he turned and left the room, intent on doing as he'd told her he would.

She'd taken care of him. He would absolutely do the same for her. And Jamie would want to help, too, even if his dad told him he couldn't do more than make her things to cheer her up. They wouldn't let her go through it alone. As she hadn't let him do so.

* * *

 **A/N:** Illness/taking care of a sick person trope is...well, trope-y. But I had fun, regardless. And bear in mind that, while Steve has his post-serum body here, he doesn't have the total post-serum immunity. He can still get sick in this universe!

So, how many of you are getting impatient that Steve and Holly haven't just admitted how they feel about each other yet? Most of you? Well, fret not, it's coming! Soon, very soon...

Just as a reminder—the poll on my page is still up, so you can still vote if you haven't. And, as ever, I still have a Twitter account for story updates, etc., that you can follow.

I own nothing from the MCU, nor do I own any other pop culture references made in the text (S _tar Wars_ , _Indiana Jones_ , etc.).

Thanks for reading, please review, and I'll see you all for the next one!


	7. Chapter 7

The door to the bedroom at the end of the hall opened up. Morning had since dawned, sunlight streaming through the half-opened curtains. At the far end of the room, a grunt came, and the child at the door smiled. Rising up onto his tiptoes, his bare feet sank into the carpet, softening his footfalls as he crossed the room. The lump in the bed hadn't moved, the dark blue covers remaining around the grown man.

"Daddy, get up!" he called out with his young, high-pitched voice. Suddenly, the bed dipped on the far side, the sheets shifting and pulling as the little body crawled across the mattress. Knowing full well who it was, the bed's occupant waited, burying his face a little deeper into his pillow.

"Ugh…" Steve Rogers moaned out then, his eyes opening slowly as the small, insistent hands of his child began to pat and pull at the covers. The comforter around his shoulder was wrenched down, exposing more of him to the morning air. Looking over, he let the corner of his mouth curve at the blond boy on the bedspread. A toothy smile was shot back at him, before the pushing and such resumed.

"It's America's birthday, Daddy," Jamie cried happily, grabbing the sleeve of his shirt and tugged. "You hafta get up."

Giving into his pulling, Steve let himself roll over onto his back, a groan floating out sharply when Jamie flopped atop his stomach.

"Independence Day, buddy," he corrected when he got his breath back. Gently hoisting the boy off of him and sitting up, he set Jamie to sit on his lap. Patting his back, he felt a distant tremor of happiness twinge at the back of his mind. "And you know who else has a birthday today?"

Jamie's grin became brighter, excited at the prospect. "Who?"

Steve hooked a thumb back at himself. "Me."

"Oh, yeah," the four-year-old crooned, looking up at his father in wonderment. Blinking, he lifted his arms, spreading them wide. "You gotta be so old! Like, a hundred years."

A sharp bark of laughter ripped out of Steve then, and he leaned back against the headboard.

"Close, kiddo," he replied, the corners of his eyes crinkling. Inclining his head, he told his boy his actual age. "Thirty-two."

Jamie's brown eyes went wider then, and he breathed, "Wow."

"Come on. Let's get some breakfast," Steve said, letting the little guy flop off of the bed first. When the boy executed the short jump with a flourish of hands, he snickered to himself. Pushing back the sheets, he promised, "Some red, white, and blue breakfast."

Curious as to what that entailed, Jamie grabbed his hand, nearly dragging Steve out into the kitchen. The older man smirked as he went into the cupboards, fetching up the ingredients for blueberry pancakes. Once the batter was mixed and Jamie had thrown in handfuls of the fruit, standing on the step-stool he pulled up to the counter, Steve poured the first dollops on the griddle. Swiftly, he pulled out strawberries from the fridge, the pre-chopped fruit going into a bowl in between flipping pancakes.

It was his preferred method of celebration those days. Making a fuss about his birthday was not high on his priority list, and once he'd passed twenty-five, he figured that huge parties and such were unnecessary. Particularly after Jamie was born; instead, the efforts toward celebration were geared toward the little guy, and he was pleased to do so. However, that year, Sam was unwilling to let it slide. He had recruited Natasha to his cause as well, the two cornering him on his lunch break one day in June and outright telling him that there would be a party, and he better damn well show up to it. And once they spilled the beans to his son, there was no getting out of it, then. Later in the afternoon, they would go over to Sam's house, the pair of them, and he would endure the good-natured torture, as he'd eventually promised them.

For now, though, there was breakfast with his son, and he was glad for that simplicity.

Once the pancakes were finished and plated (his on a glass plate, Jamie's on a plastic one bearing the image of the dragon from the movie he loved so much), the two went to the dining table and dug in with gusto. Jamie, in between bites of pancake and strawberries, launched into a garbled rendition of "Yankee Doodle", which the daycare people had insisted on teaching the kids for the past week. Enduring the rendition on repeat, Steve would chime in on and off as well, sometime purposefully altering the lyrics to make his boy laugh and playfully scold him. The smartphone that had been plugged in overnight started to rattle then, and Steve fetched it up, swiping the screen with his thumb and grinning as he read the incoming text message.

It was Holly, who had long since recovered from her bout with the flu and fever. She'd been a decent patient to his nursing, but she'd called it mother-henning by the end. Still, she was better, and he was pleased to see the color and vibrancy of her return in the days that followed. The illness they'd unfortunately shared had brought them a little closer together, and he couldn't be upset with that. Not when it meant she would take his arm on occasion, or that the embraces between them had increased.

Turning his focus back onto the message at hand, he let his eyebrows rise.

 _ **Hey, do you mind if I stop by for a minute?**_ Given that her tendencies ran toward not being too active in the early mornings, he had to surmise she had a good reason for reaching out to him then. And he was not about to deny her.

 **Of course not,** he replied quickly. Pausing, he glanced down at the old t-shirt and the red Nationals shorts he was wearing. Clicking his tongue, he typed out, **Come on over in about a half hour. Gotta get dressed, me and the little guy.**

Her response was just as swift, and had the corner of his mouth curving up again.

 _ **Ah, I wish you luck in your endeavor. ;-) See you soon.**_

Putting his phone back onto the table top, and he glanced over at his son.

"Alright, Jamie. You done?" he asked the boy, examining the decimated pancake bits and strawberry ends on his plate. Blond hair shifted as Jamie bobbed a nod and slid out of his chair.

"Yes, Daddy."

The boy was making a beeline for his toy bins in the living room, leaving the dishes to Steve's care. Taking the child's plate, the father scraped the last little bits into the trash, setting it and the small fork to soak in the sink with the bigger dishes. Leaving those for the moment, he sighed a little, trotting over to the patterned carpet where Jamie had started driving around a couple of toy cars. Narrowly avoiding stepping on a tiny Corvette, he bent at the waist and rested his hands on his knees.

"Let's get cleaned up and get dressed," he said, trying to entice the boy into doing so. When all he got was a grunt and a displeased look in response, he tried again. "We're gonna have company in a little while, and you need to put on clean clothes."

That got Jamie's attention, and he looked up at his father. "Who?"

Steve bit back a grin. "Holly."

"Okay," the little guy agreed, shunting his cars away and practically flying to his room. Chuckling to himself, Steve pivoted and followed him. Selecting clothes for Jamie wasn't difficult, but getting him to change often was an adventure. That day, with the promise of seeing their 'building friend' as he called her, it was relatively easy. A red shirt with three black stars on the chest and one on each sleeve—a gift from Uncle Bucky—was pulled on, and small denim shorts were donned after that. Barely tolerating his father's ministrations to comb down his hair, the boy trotted to the bathroom to brush his teeth. Steve chose and changed into his own attire in record time, joining the little guy at the sink as well. Shockingly (in his opinion), they were done before the time limit had ended, and he was able to send Jamie onto the living room to play for a bit and allow him a chance to get the dishwasher loaded.

Within seconds of placing the last plate, three hard knocks rebounded at the front door, and Steve was hard-pressed to withhold his smile.

"It's open!" he hollered, dumping in the amount of dishwashing liquid into the compartment. The creak of the front door joined in with the click of the dishwasher door locking into place, and he tapped the buttons to start the load. Jamie's joyful shout echoed throughout the apartment, and his thudding feet transferred from carpet to laminate in seconds flat. A soft 'oof!' was smothered by the happy chattering, Holly saying her hellos as the little boy belted his back to her. Another quiet request, and then the boy was stomping away again.

Cocking an eyebrow, Steve let the dishwasher chug away and rounded the corner, stopping short and leaning his shoulder against the edge of the wall. The young woman who had come over had her back to him for the moment, examining the photos of New York beside the dining room set as she liked to do. In concession to the heat, she was wearing a short dress, the loose material black and sporting white sprigs of flowers. Her hair had been gathered up off her neck into a messy twist, some stray strands slipping out of the clip she pinned the wavy locks with. Flip-flops were abandoned by the door, next to his running shoes, her feet bare on the laminate. Raking his gaze up her legs once more, he eventually connected with her dark brown gaze, and he dropped it almost bashfully.

"Hey," she greeted him, turning to face him and keeping one hand behind her back. Before he could question what she was doing, she flapped her hand in the direction he'd come from. "Do you still need a few minutes? Because I could come back later."

Steve glanced back as well, and then down at his own attire. The light blue athletic shirt was clean, and his jeans were relatively unscathed as well. Smirking to himself, he shook his head.

"Nah, I think this is how it's gonna be this morning." Gesturing toward the living room, he padded after her. Jamie was back at it with his toys, though he had moved onto his farm animals and the Wild West cowboy figure he had. Eyeing the gift bag she was poorly concealing at her side, he sat down on the sofa, waiting for her to follow suit before inquiring, "What brings you by?"

Snickering lightly, she took the seat beside him, holding out the bag to him.

"Well, I wanted to give you this, since it's finally the day," she said, causing him to tip his head back briefly. Ever since he'd told her what day his birthday was, she'd been promising him a gift. She'd found it fairly recently, it seemed, and she was just waiting to give it to him. Flicking her gaze to the striped bag and the tissue paper shoved into it, she dipped her chin. "I know it's not wrapped really well, but…still, happy birthday."

Taking the hastily stuffed gift bag, Steve chuckled.

"Thank you," he said, pulling out the tissue paper wad by wad. Brushing his fingers against something solid and grained, he blinked. Pulling it out, he tilted his head and examined the wooden box. Sliding back the cover, it revealed a set of professional-grade acrylic paints, and a single, small paintbrush tucked inside with them. His smile widened, and he looked up at her again. "Oh, this is great."

A bright grin stretched over her lips, a pink flushing into her cheeks as she glanced down at her hands.

"I, uh, remembered that you said you wanted to give acrylics another shot sometime. Figured you could do so if you had the materials," she stated simply, fiddling with the hem of her dress.

"Yeah, no, this is really great," he assured her, his mind already jumping to what his first project would be with them. Once he got a bit of canvas, of course. Shaking his head, he murmured, "I mean, doing so much digital stuff can kinda drive me up the wall here and there; I've been missing painting. And sketching for non-work purposes. Thank you so much."

He reached for her then, pulling her into a gentle hug, holding her for several long moments. She returned it, her arms winding around his neck and keeping him in place as well.

"You're welcome," she proclaimed when they finally pulled apart, the pleasure in her features hard to ignore. As the familiar thud rebounded in his chest, he watched as she reached into the bag as well, withdrawing the other thing residing within. "Oh, and just in case the little guy might feel left out."

Off his curious look, she shrugged a shoulder and smirked.

"Taking a page out of my parents' book when my siblings and I were little," she explained, holding it up to show him. Having grown up with an older brother and sister, she had fuzzy memories about their birthdays, but she did recall her mom and dad giving her a little toy or book of her own, which was repeated for Hank and Heather whenever the others' rolled around. It had long since stopped, clearly, but she didn't think the practice was harmful to indulge in for another.

"Very nice," Steve complimented her, coughing once and turning to look at his boy. "Jamie, Holly got you something, too."

His play interrupted, Jamie's brow screwed up as he looked at the young woman on the couch.

"Oh," he mumbled. Swiftly, the little guy got to his feet, padding over to her. Glancing at his daddy, he cupped a hand at her, waving for her to come closer. Doing as she was bid, Holly had to bite back a smile when Jamie leaned in and whispered loudly, "It's not my birthday, Holly."

She nodded at him, hushing her voice and telling him, "I know, but I thought you might like it, anyway."

Blinking, the child gave her a wide grin and pointing at the gift in her hands. "What is it?"

"It's a coloring book," she said, her expression lighting up as the little boy recognized the big red dog on the cover and clapped happily. Taking his Clifford coloring book, he hopped from foot to foot in joy.

Warmth filled Steve as he looked upon his boy, though he merely prompted, "What do you say?"

At once, the little guy went to her, bending over her knees and hugging her lap. "Thank you, Holly."

"You're welcome, bud," she told him, one last squeeze given before the boy tore over to his box of crayons, swiftly choosing a page and hunkering down with the book on his lap. With Jamie thoroughly occupied in his coloring, the two adults took a moment to chat, their gazes straying over to the child on and off. As it was a holiday, both of them had been granted the day off from work, and since they lived in the nation's capital, there was not exactly a dearth of activities taking place around the city. Speculating a bit on whether to go to the memorials and pay respects that morning, the blond man found himself wondering about the brunette's plans.

"So, are you coming tonight?" Steve asked her, trying to appear nonchalant about it. The befuddlement on Holly's face was apparent, and he couldn't help but squint in confusion himself.

"To what?" she wondered, not sure of what he was asking. She couldn't recall him inviting her anywhere in the last few days. Something akin to dread seemed to slide down into her stomach, and she unconsciously wrapped her arms around herself.

"To the party. Sam and Nat wanted to do something for the occasion, and..." he trailed, realizing that she had no idea what he was talking about and his smile sliding away with the words.

"Uh, well, I wasn't..." A red flush crawled up her neck then, and she tucked back a loose strand of hair before she canted her head. "I didn't know about it."

"What?" he crowed, unsure of how it had happened. A twist of indignation and guilt pulsed through him as he understood then, and he was not pleased. When his friends had told him about planning a party for him, he'd been explicit about the initial guest list, at least; he wanted to retain the right over the first wave of invitees. Steve knew for a fact that Holly had been put on the list to call, text, or Facebook message an invitation, and he left it in their hands. Shaking his head, he muttered, "I thought they, I told them—"

"Don't worry about it," she cut him off gently, brushing off the oversight and flicking a few fingers through the air. Granted, she was a little stung that she'd been overlooked, but she didn't think it was maliciously done. Sam, she knew, worked as a counselor for V.A., and was preparing to go for a masters degree in psychology within the next few months; the man was pretty busy. And Natasha, well, they didn't know each other all that well. It was doubtful she even knew her number. Lighting upon another reason, she supplied, "It's a holiday; the days leading up to it can get pretty hectic."

She did, however, look more disgruntled than she allowed herself to divulge, and Steve was no more pleased about it than her.

"I suppose," he muttered, not very convinced. He frowned to himself for a few seconds, before clearing his throat and allowing the doubt in his face to slide away. Looking at her again, he asked, "Well, do you want to come?"

Holly shifted in her seat, a finger tapping idly along her thigh. As she considered her schedule, she didn't notice blue eyes flicking from the digit to the bare skin and back up to her face. The burning in his ears, however, could not be hidden.

"I'm meeting up with Darcy and a couple other girls from work this afternoon for a cook-out," she noted aloud. Glancing back to him then, she softened her tense expression into a much softer one. "But I think I could make an appearance, if you didn't mind. And if it doesn't screw up numbers or something."

"It wouldn't. And I definitely wouldn't mind," he added, letting his eyebrow rise the slightest bit. "It is my birthday, after all."

She opened her mouth, about to respond to that, when Jamie's head jerked up.

"Me, neither!" he announced loudly, his hands curling around his crayons and the newly-formed fists pressing against each other. Big brown eyes turned full-force onto her, and the little guy pleaded, "Please come."

Understanding the effects of the puppy-dog look that had gotten to him in the past, Steve stifled his laughter and mimicked the look as well.

"Please?"

A scoffing laugh poured out of Holly then, but there was no disguising the true humor in her irises. Looking from the child to the father, she let out a mocking long-suffering sigh.

"Alright, Birthday Boy," she told Steve, a thrill rushing through her when happiness blossomed over his face. "I'll swing by later on."

That decided, Steve used one of Jamie's crayons and a spare piece of paper to scrawl out Sam's address, imploring to her to come when she could. Another round of hugs were exchanged, and then she departed, sweet smiles given as she left the apartment. Resolving to settle the matter of the missing invitation later, Steve gestured for Jamie to start packing up his bag. They had a few stops to make before the party, and there wasn't much time to lose.

True to his word, he had brought his son out to the memorials that he could, in spite of the terrible traffic for the holiday. Long walls and stones slabs spread out before them as they traveled between them, the spaces solemn for such a lovely summer day. In a hushed tone, Steve explained to his boy that, while it was a day for celebration, it was also for remembering those who gave up everything for the nation's freedom. That the soldiers deserved to be remembered on the day, too. The little guy, recalling that his own daddy was a soldier, could only nod, the somberness of the monuments affecting him as they passed by. With respects paid, Steve went through the drive-through of a nearby fast food joint, lunch indulged in at a park near their own home.

Sam had found a gem of a place in Brookland, something akin to what Steve and Peggy had hoped to get once Jamie was a little older. The pale gray of the facade stood out from the brick buildings nearby, and a new, colored-concrete walkway led up to the tiny porch. Granted, the lot was small, with the nearest neighboring house about ten feet away, but it wasn't bad at all. There was a yard to utilize, which Steve had seen he had made the most of for the afternoon. Ladder golf and bean bag boards dotted it, and the grill he liked to use during the summer was brought out of its hiding place in the detached garage out back. His friend was manning the grill, saluting him with the tongs as he and his boy got out of the SUV. As he hollered a hello, a sudden stream of people exited the house, all of them going to Steve and giving him birthday greetings and congratulations. Pietro had come, though he could only stay for a little while, and he shook his head, slapping his shoulder hard before chasing down Sam and attempting to help with the grilling. Pietro's sister Wanda had come out, in town for a few days before she had to travel again. She worked for an international magazine as a photographer, and her work was absolutely magical. However, she could afford to take the day off before heading off to the next assignment. Scott Lang, the father of Jamie's good friend Cassie, had also come with his daughter, though they had come on their own. As it turned out, he was served divorce papers just the week before, and she was in the process of moving out of their home. The party, he thought, would help him take his mind off of it for a few minutes, he'd muttered, a tired smile on his lips as he watched the kids start to play. Bucky, unfortunately, could not attend, given that he still lived in New York and was with his own family for the day (too difficult to get away from all his nieces and nephews, Steve supposed, and he smirked to himself). Among others were Kay, Sam's girlfriend—who was now sporting rainbow-dyed hair—and a few of the guys from his unit overseas. Gabe Jones and Jim Morita wished him well, the pair of fellows passing a flask of something stronger than the beer provided. The two had recently started their own music store, something they had discussed getting off the ground since before they were discharged. Charts, albums, and other paraphernalia were sold there, along with instruments themselves. Gabe had even taken up to doing live trumpet demonstrations to get younger kids interested every few days, a tactic which seemed to be working in attracting attention. It was good to hear how well business was going for them, and Steve felt himself relax in the circle of his fellows as Natasha came out, a birthday cake balanced in her arms.

The large sheet cake was covered in white icing, red and blue piping done around the top and bottom edges. However, it was what was written in blue in the center that caught his attention: **HAPPY BIRTHDAY CAPTAIN AMERICA!**

"Really, guys? 'Captain America?'" he grumbled, blinking in incredulity at the cake. Natasha said nothing, merely set it down on the table placed by the grill and putting in the candles. The ring of friends surrounding him either withheld chuckles or outright laughed, with Sam looking smug among them.

"Hey, your rank and your birthday coinciding with this day are your fault," he riposted, hooking his thumb at the confection. "We just called the attention to both that they deserved."

Steve rolled his eyes, but still maintained a grin. "Thanks."

"You're welcome." Picking up the lighter, he swiftly lit each wick, the others launching into a round of the obligatory song. Once they had finished, the candles were lit, and Sam took it upon himself to make one more weak joke. "Now blow out the candles; I don't want this thing to be deemed a fire hazard with all those things burning at once."

"Ass," Steve mumbled under his breath, just low enough that the kids couldn't understand his curse. Bending, he took in a deep breath, extinguishing all the candles in a single blow. Applause went around (some even came from the neighbors' yards, as they departed or returned from parties of their own), and the cake was distributed along with the food for the day. Burgers, brats, and hot dogs for the kids went with staple side dishes like potato salad and baked beans, chips laced liberally throughout it all. Drinks came in the form of beer or sodas from the two coolers on the porch, and everyone relaxed on chairs or on the grass of the yard.

Some play resumed after a short while, once everyone had gotten their share of the meal and the cake, the lower chatter accompanied by the radio Sam had dug out of his storage. The music played on as Steve found himself able to sit for a time, swishing the beer he'd gotten himself inside the cup he'd taken from the stack on the table. Privately, he was considering whether to push on unwrapping the gifts waiting for him inside, or just collecting them at the end of the evening when he and Jamie went home, the strains of the guitar on the radio soothing him. A finger tapped on his shoulder suddenly, and he looked up, a slight smile on his face.

"Having fun, old man?" Natasha said, lowering herself onto the step beside him. She had her own Solo cup in hand, and she held it up proudly. Her whole bearing was proud, the serenity of her countenance topping it off.

"Yeah, it's been pretty good, so far," he stated, the suspicion from that morning rising up in him as she sat down beside him. Nodding to the all the others sprawled along the front yard, he posited, "You and Sam did a good job."

She tossed her hair then, smirking broadly. "Well, the motivation was pretty easy to get."

When she glanced over the gathered company as well, she failed to noticed the cool, assessing blue gaze running over her.

"Uh-huh," Steve grunted, averting his eyes to his cup. Swishing the leftover beer inside, he took a fast sip. "Shame, though."

Ocean-colored eyes narrowed in on him, then. His words were too studied, too casually imparted for them not to be remarked upon. And he knew full well that she would not be able to let it go.

"About what?" she inquired, studiously sipping from her own cup. His arms crossed over his chest, and he exhaled sharply.

"The guest list seemed to missing a person or two when I checked."

A perfectly shaped eyebrow rose at him, and Natasha blinked. "What do you mean?"

Steve stared back, his deadpan expression telling that he was in no mood for her to play dumb.

"I mean Holly," he remarked pointedly, matching her arched eyebrow with one of his own. Shaking his head, he continued, "She's my friend, too, and neither of you told her about this happening."

Natasha felt a sick slide in her gut, followed by a burning flush along her veins. It hadn't been done consciously, but by the time she'd realized she'd forgotten to include the girl her friend was...attracted to, she'd chosen let it go. Besides, she hadn't considered it to be an issue, anyway; the girl was barely acquainted with the rest of them. Perhaps she wouldn't have wanted to come and mingle off the property of their apartments. Or she could've had other plans by that point, too.

The time had come to brazen it out, it seemed.

"Well, Sam was busy getting everything else ready, and when he bucked the invites to me between the last couple of projects...I'm sorry, I forgot," she said, the explanation sounding poor even to her own ears. However, even as Steve glared at her and shook his head, she would not back down from her stance. Shrugging a shoulder, "I mean, it wasn't on purpose."

Her stomach and her heart tightened treacherously upon the remark, but she refused to let it show on her face. It really hadn't been, she asserted to herself. She wasn't that cruel, or spiteful. Instead, she tilted her cup outward, to where Pietro was chatting up Sam's girlfriend, and over to where Scott and Wanda were playing with Cassie and Jamie.

"I'm used to working with the particular pool that we have for friends. New flings just blip on the radar and barely register."

The hardness on Steve's face sharpened, all amusement drained from him then. Natasha was beginning to mentally kick herself for the remark; she knew better than that. It seemed that her careful control was slipping against her will.

"She's not a fling," he enunciated carefully, the slight acknowledgment of the truth hitting the redheaded beauty squarely in the stomach. She disguised it with an eye-roll and a snide scoff.

"Which Peggy would just love to hear, I'm sure," she groused in a low tone, though it had come out louder than she'd anticipated. Sipping from her cup, she chanced a glance at Steve's face. The thunder in his expression took her aback. His jaw was incredibly stiff, and his blue eyes had gone icy with fury. And beneath that, there was a small measure of guilt. That last part gained a bit of strength, and the redhead suddenly realized how harshly she'd jabbed at him. The horror at her error spread through her as he stood up, setting his cup to the side and gritting his teeth.

"Okay, we're done here," he stated, the low, angry tone unmistakeable in his voice. Natasha got to her feet smoothly, gripping at the crook of his elbow.

"Steve, wait. I'm sorry I said that," she murmured, dropping her grip and adopting a contrite look. She genuinely did feel badly for invoking Peggy then. It wasn't fair, to either him or her. When he snorted audibly, she held up her palm in placation. "Really, I didn't mean it."

"Then why say it?" he asked her, a line of hurt cutting across his brow. Purposefully, he kept his voice a few notches above a whisper, not wanting to call attention to the discussion or to distress the children. Blinking hard, he coughed, "You know how hard it was to, to...and now, smacking me in the face with it? That's harsh, Nat."

The truth was, he struggled every day with his feelings toward Holly, and his remaining ones for Peggy. It was difficult even feeling human again after his wife's death, difficult to keep going for his boy's sake. He hadn't stopped loving her just because she'd passed on, but he knew that clinging to the past was not healthy. Some widowers remained so, and in the beginning, he had thought he would be the same. But Peggy...deep down, he knew she wouldn't want him to sacrifice his soul and happiness just for her sake.

If she had the chance, he reckoned, she'd probably give him a smack upside the head for the lack of practicality. He could nearly hear her voice, telling him that he'd already mourned her, and that he now had the chance to honor her by still living. By still caring, and...

It was a struggle, reconciling with the matter, but he wouldn't put it aside. He couldn't.

In the present moment, Natasha let out a soft sigh, tipping her head to the right.

"I know. It was low, and I am sorry," she apologized again. She knew it was tough for him. Still, it was hard for her, too, even more so after the last year of hoping for his affections and finding herself wanting. She was hurting, and in that moment, she could not stop herself from relaying just how much. "I just...after three years, why _her_?"

The small break at the back of her voice caught him then, and he blinked. Understanding dawned on him then, knowing what she was truly asking him. Another wave of guilt flowed through him, but it wasn't about his own feelings, no. It was guilt over having to say his piece, knowing how it would affect the woman he'd long thought of as merely a friend.

"I can't explain it. It's like...a door opening, and the light is pouring in after being stuck in the dark for so long," he confessed, looking past her, past the houses on the block and the trees dotting property lines. He focused on the horizon, the light of the day softening as afternoon began to turn to early evening. Shrugging his shoulders, he murmured, "And it's hard, too, because of the past. But I can't ignore it, or pretend otherwise. She's just...more."

At that early stage, it was the best he could do, the most he could express. How he felt for Holly was familiar in a lot of ways, and yet different, too. He'd been drawn to her, since the first day, and while he couldn't put a name to it just yet, it lurked there beneath the surface. The kindness and the caring, the loyalty and the honesty, all that was innate in her spoke to him, beckoned him.

As he looked down into ocean-colored eyes, set in a face crowned with fiery hair, he witnessed how what comforted him pierced another.

"Okay, then," the redhead croaked, dipping her chin once. Placing her empty cup on the banister of the porch, she flashed him a brittle, broken grin, a tender pat on his arm dealt as she moved down the steps and away from the house. Steve grimaced, pivoting to go after her.

"Nat," he started, unsure how to mend what had happened between them. He was halted when he spotted how tightly curled her hand was around the keys she'd taken out of her pocket. Though he might not have understood the depth of her feelings for him, he did know when she was holding herself together. If he continued after her, she was just as liable to throw a punch at him than anything else.

And, he didn't doubt, she most likely wanted to be alone.

"Happy birthday, Steve," she called over her shoulder, a halfhearted wave sent back as she continued to walk away. "I'll see you around the office."

The others called out to her, too, confused good-byes passed along as she strode up the block. Jamie tried to run after her, but Scott managed to catch his arm and keep him there. Instead, he persuaded the little guy to wave his farewells, which Natasha returned when she'd gotten to her car and paused beside the driver side door. A moment later, she slipped inside and was gone, the roar of the engine disappearing several seconds afterward. The others glanced from the spot where she'd parked and back to Steve, and he could do no more than shrug. When no other answer was forthcoming, the party started up again, Gabe and Jim pointedly challenging Pietro and Kay to a bean bag game. Scott and Wanda brought the kids over to watch, encouraging them to pick which team to support, the music on the radio playing on.

Steve sank back down onto the step, threading a hand through his hair and blowing out a short breath. The boards of the tiny porch creaked behind him, and he glanced over his shoulder. Sam was there, an unwitting witness to the entire exchange when he'd gone inside for a moment and found his way out blocked. The other man lifted a shoulder, striding over to the nearest chest of drinks and withdrawing two cans of soda.

"...You had no idea, did you?" Wilson crooned softly, passing one of the cans of cola to his friend and sitting down beside him.

"No," Steve breathed, scratching at the back of his neck with his free hand. "Honestly, I didn't have a clue."

"Yeah, that's obvious," Sam remarked, avoiding the slight glare directed at him by opening his can and taking a sip of soda. Instead, he waited a few moments, watching as his girlfriend engaged Jamie in a quick game of ladder golf. Glancing at the blond man beside him out the corner of his eye, he wondered, "You've never thought about it?"

The tips of Steve's ears burned pink, and he canted his head.

"I mean, there was a time when...puberty, and stuff, when you start noticing girls around you..." he trailed off, tucking his bottom lip between his teeth for a few seconds. Tapping a finger along the can's side, he breathed out slowly. "I dunno. I knew her since we were little. She's sort of been the sister I never had. I just, I can't see past that."

Wilson inclined his head at that. Far be it from him to dictate his friend's preferences or tastes. At the end of the day, if he didn't feel a romantic connection with someone, he didn't, and it wasn't Sam's place to press the issue. Rather, he shrugged, bumping his elbow lightly against Steve's.

"Sorry about the snafu, I should've double-checked with everything," he apologized. A look of chagrin came over the other man's face then, and he scuffed the toe of his shoe on a lower step. The conversation had escalated so quickly, over something that did not need it to. Clearing his throat, the blond fellow canted his head.

"It happens. And I took care of it."

Another side-eye came from Sam, and he smirked. "Holly's coming, then?"

The frown on Steve's lips began to dissipate, his thumb tapping at the smartphone resting in his pocket. "Soon. She sent me a text a little while ago; she's on her way over now."

Despite the unpleasantness from minutes before, it was hard to miss the pleasure the idea gave him. Wilson gave a low, hooting laugh, earning a perplexed look from his friend.

"Man, you've got it bad," he drawled, and Steve rolled his eyes at the exaggerated tone. Lightly thumping him on the arm, he goaded him, "You do. You tell her yet?"

In spite of the tease in his tone, Steve saw the seriousness permeating through Sam's eyes. Tongue-tied for a second or two, Rogers rotated his soda can between his fingers before carefully canting his head in the negative.

"I want to be sure."

Wilson shot him a flat look, not impressed with his friend's stalling on the issue.

"Steve, I don't know much surer you can be. You see each other nearly every day, you talk to or text her a lot of the time, you guys do stuff together independently of your friends, you talk about her a ton to everyone else, and, probably most importantly, you've let her get to know your son," he said, driving the last point home. Blue eyes focused on the lower steps, and Steve's jaw ticked slightly. However, it wasn't in annoyance that he did those things, but rather, they were spurred on by heavy consideration. Knowing that the blond man was doing more than just hearing him, Wilson adopted the tone he used for work, when he wanted the soldiers in his care to comprehend what he was driving at in meetings. "You've chosen her; you'll probably keeping choosing her. If you don't know yet, you've got to be the biggest fool on the planet."

Steve swallowed hard, his free hand gripped hard at the outer hem of his jeans briefly. Closing his eyes, he took a shaky breath and opened his mouth.

"I..."

A honking horn came from down the block, then, and both men's heads turned to watch as a blue Buick rolled up the street. Through the windshield, he could see the outline of a young woman, her brunette hair pulled back and large sunglasses perched on her nose. She waved at them as she parked, down the block a little ways from the house. Sam felt Rogers simultaneously tense up and relax beside him, and he snorted into his soda. Oh, the man was all for the pretty brunette on the corner, he mused silently. Nudging him with his elbow again, he flicked his dark gaze between the pair.

"Just choose her for real, man. Before you lose your chance. And before you have another woman pissed at you."

Wilson attempted a smile, but the deep dissatisfaction on Steve's face caused it to slip.

"Too soon?"

"Yeah," Rogers grunted, setting his can of soda to one side and standing up. Brushing down his pants, he shot a thoughtful look at his friend before mumbling, "But you're not wrong."

The smile returned tentatively, and Wilson gestured toward the newly-arrived vehicle.

"Well, better go get her," he proposed, holding up a fist for Steve to pound before he went out to the final guest. The blond man returned the gesture, clambering down the walkway seconds later. When Jamie went to follow him, he told his boy to stay put since he would be right back. Pouting a little, the child sank down onto the walkway, crossing his arms and watching him go even as he did as he was told.

The car was fully parked and the engine was cut when he'd gotten within a few feet of the vehicle, Holly climbing out of the driver's seat and shutting the door. Since that morning, she had pulled her hair back into a braid, a red headband placed on her head as well. The black dress remained, but he was not bothered by her not following the theme of the day.

He was too pleased to see her there.

Coming around the front of the car to him, she gasped, "Hey, sorry I didn't get here sooner, the traffic is just—"

At once, she was gathered into his embrace, his strong arms nearly lifting off her feet as he held her close. The scent of vanilla wafted around them, and he inhaled softly, the comfort of her body against his followed by a spike of something deeper. Her own arms were around his shoulders, her head resting just shy of the crook of his neck. For several long moments—it might have been seconds, though it felt like minutes—they were suspended in the hug, neither of them willing to be the first to back away. Soon enough, he loosened his grip on her, carefully lowering her onto the flats of her feet. Backing up a little, he did not relinquish his hold on her, his hands resting along her waist and hers laying upon his arms. Even in his pleasure, he could feel the actions of the previous hour pushing through his mind, and his blue gaze turned briefly troubled.

"What?" she asked him, dark eyes scanning his face. Blinking back the uncertainty, the roil of all that had happened that day, he shook his head briefly to dislodge the thoughts. The rockiness with Natasha could be, and would be, addressed at a later time. After all, even though he didn't return her sentiments, he still did care for her as a friend, and too many years had passed for either of them to give it up so easily. She would need some time to process, and adjust, and he would still be there for her at the end of it all.

Focusing on Holly again, the corner of his mouth turning up.

"Nothing. I'm just really glad you're here," he professed, fingers shifting where they rested on her sides and palms cupping her a little closer. Acceding to the silent demand, she took a half-step closer to him, the hands resting on his biceps sliding up a little. Her confusion was blinked away, spots of pink decorating her cheeks as she grinned up at him.

"Me, too," she divulged, and he let one hand fall away from her waist, sliding it up until he threaded their fingers together. Holding her hand, he turned and led her over to his friends, making another choice that day.

* * *

 **A/N:** So...this chapter came earlier than expected. I had anticipated a sort of Steve/Natasha confrontation down the road, but I guess it asserted itself here. I hope the drama unfolded alright for it.

And, for the record—Natasha did not intentionally exclude Holly on the first go-around. However, she sort of committed to the mistake because of timing, and because even the strongest of us can have weak moments in our personal lives. As Steve said in the text, it happens. And, at the very least, though it hurts her now, she'll be able to start moving on from this point. I'm not trying to be cruel here; believe me, I've been on Nat's side of the fence more times than I care to admit. But, well, in this narrative, she's not his choice.

But yeah, Steve has his birthday, and Sam imparts a bit of wisdom, as is his wont. And more progress has been made! We'll see where it goes from here.

I own nothing from the MCU, nor do I own any other pop culture references made in the text (Marvel comics, etc.).

Thanks for reading, please review, and I'll see you all for the next one!


	8. Chapter 8

"Yuck!" Jamie Rogers cried, shielding his face as the movie he and his father had selected that evening took a dire turn. The two lead characters had started kissing, and naturally, he was appalled.

Glancing up at the screen, Steve had to stifle a chuckle. His son was already well into the adults-expressing-emotions-is-gross phase, or perhaps it was merely the kissing-is-gross phase. Either way, the young boy had started to vocalize his distaste for it whenever a couple onscreen kissed, or even held each other for too long those days, and he couldn't help but get a kick out of it. Especially when it happened during his favorite films; when he first realized that the young guy training the dragon wanted to kiss the independent female Viking, he nearly swore off watching it forever (forever turned out to last until the next night, but there was a day in which Steve had obtained his own wish of never seeing it again).

Shaking his head, he leaned down and tapped Jamie on the shoulder. "Y'know, bud, there's gonna be a day when you realize kissing isn't all that bad."

Jamie turned and looked at him, befuddlement on his face. "But...girls are gross."

His father's eyebrows arched. "Your friend Cassie is a girl. So is Holly, and Auntie Nat; do you really think they're gross?"

The mention of Natasha made the briefest, guilty pang register in him, and he had to withhold a sigh. True to her word, she'd only seen him around the office for those couple of weeks after his birthday, bare remarks and distant grins exchanged across the floor as they went about their day-to-day projects. The distance did hurt a little, but only in that it was like being cut off from a sibling he cared about. Inwardly, he shook his head to himself; he knew what he wanted, she knew it, too, and it was better for the time being to be a little distant. Time would be the key factor in salvaging their friendship, and he had to give that much.

In the present moment, Jamie screwed up his brow as he thought about it, canting his head when he reached a conclusion.

"No, but I wouldn't kiss them."

Steve snorted audibly at that, and under his breath, he muttered, "I'm sure Scott would be relieved to hear that."

By then, the young child's attention was back on the television, now scrutinizing the kissing couple intensely. Scurrying up to sit closer to the entertainment system, Steve was about to admonish him to scoot back when he spoke again.

"Does everybody do that face when they kiss?" he wondered, a small finger jabbing at the television screen. Glancing up, Steve watched as the couple drew apart. Small, silly grins were on their lips and their eyes were focused on one another, the rest of the world seemingly forgotten as they were wrapped in each other's arms. Another pang registered, a memory of Peggy from when they'd first started dating floating up. She was so strong, so independently-minded and clear, but when she looked at him that way, it felt as though he were the only thing she wanted to see in the world.

Another flush rushed through him as he recalled something just as deep and close in Holly's expression towards him as well, and he ducked his head.

"Some people do," he mumbled, tapping a thumb along the arm of the sofa, about to lose himself to the thought. However, he was preempted by the curious glance Jamie was now shooting at him.

"You do that," he stated, as though it were the most obvious fact in the world. The flush returned to Steve then, spreading outward over his skin and coloring his face as his boy insisted, "You look like that around Holly sometimes. I know, I saw it a buncha times."

Slowly, the older man struggled to unglue his tongue from the roof of his mouth. "Jamie..."

And then more questions began to pour out of the kid. "D'you wanna kiss Holly, Daddy? Like that?"

That repeated a few times, before the older man let out a low moan of annoyance. Scrubbing his hands over his face, he spread his palms out to his boy, looking him directly in the eye and showing him how gravely serious he was. He was about to tell Jamie that it was not his business to know such things, or to blurt out speculations like that, but he was shocked at what came out of his own mouth.

"...Yeah." Bright blue eyes widened, nearly matching his son's as they took on the size of saucers. The flood of relief that followed him finally admitting it aloud was mitigated by the need to drive home another point. His index finger came up, and he pointed it at his boy. "But you can't tell her that, okay, bud? We gotta keep that a secret."

The little brow furrowed, and Jamie tilted his head.

"Why?"

Steve let out another sharp exhale, inclining his chin.

"Because...because I asked you to," he told him, authority inserted into his voice. At once, Jamie sat up a little straighter; when his dad used that tone of voice, he knew better than to argue with it. Softening the seriousness in his voice, Steve asked him, "Can you keep my secret, bud? Please?"

Jamie blinked, and then nodded.

"Okay, Daddy. I won't tell."

Another spike of relief flew through him, and Steve sat back in his seat on the sofa, the declaration he'd made circling in his mind as he tried to relax back into the seat. It was one thing to admit to himself that he had developed feelings for the young woman down the hall, and it was another to let his own son in on his thoughts, as small a confession as it was.

"Alright, Jamie," he nearly whispered. Looking up at the television again, he jerked his chin to it. "Look, the kissing is done."

With the two leads running off to fight against a group of rogue aliens, the scene had turned into one of war and battles, and the little guy brightened considerably.

"Yay!" he cheered, jumping onto the couch and plopping right next to his father. From that point out, Jamie made it his duty to point out his favorite parts that happened, and Steve hemmed and hawed as he went on, the earlier topic forgotten by the time the credits rolled and the little guy had to be put to bed.

The following day, when he had a few free moments at his computer, Steve contemplated exactly what his son had noticed. It was something for his friends to insist that his feelings for a woman were obvious, but when it came from his boy, he had to wonder how much he was truly seeing. And, in that vein, how much Holly was truly picking up on herself. What if she had seen, but did not wish to address it, ever? He wouldn't blame her, after all; he was a widower, with little enough experience as it was prior to that. Plus he was raising a child as well. Despite the fact that she seemed to care for his son at a great level, who was to say she could care even more for him?

...Even with the sidelong looks, the smiles, the brushes of her fingers along his arms and shoulders...

The jarring ring of his telephone shook him out of his reverie, the brunette vision in his hand dancing away as he plucked up the receiver and answered the call.

"Shield Advertising, this is Steve."

"You looking for a side project?" came a rushed voice, and he smirked to thin air. The vision came dancing back, and he held onto it as he spoke.

"And hello to you, too, Holly," he greeted her, leaning back a little in his desk chair. He couldn't recall ever giving her his work number, but he had to suppose that, given the fact the number on the caller ID had the correct area code, she must have called from her own office after looking him up.

A breath chuckle coursed over the line, and he could practically see the playful roll of her eyes at her urgency.

"Hi, sorry. I have to make this quick, since I'm between meetings," she confessed, clearing her throat and getting right down to business. Due to the timetable at her own job advancing, she and her coworker were looking into updating the local website for the book retailer they worked for. Given that, while they had the social media aspects down pat, they didn't have much in the way of designing, she'd thought he would be perfect for the job. Rustling came in, and he had to guess she must have been looking at costs to contract the work, or even preliminary design needs already scrawled out. "Would you be? You would be compensated. Credit will be given to you and Shield. If you don't want to, or if you've got too much going on—"

Sitting forward in his chair, Steve tucked the phone between his ear and shoulder, tapping at his keyboard and bringing up the design program he preferred to use. She hadn't given him much, but he could at least get a bit of a start.

"Hold on. Let's discuss specs before making a decision," he placated her, a corner of his mouth turning up at her sigh of relief. Glancing at the clock, he scratched at the back of his neck. "Come by for dinner?"

A slight pause followed his question, and he heard her mutter, "Oh, well, I don't want to intrude. Not on your time with Jamie."

He clicked his tongue at that, shaking his head.

"Not an intrusion, and you know it. He... _we_...would be glad to have you." His stomach clenched a bit at his pronouncement, the slight tremors of fear winding their way up at he considered that she might further reject his offer. Taking in a deep breath, he continued, "Just bring some of the info you can provide, and we'll talk, okay?"

The extra push was enough for her to agree, and he found himself smiling even after she had to rush off the phone to make the next meeting. Outside of the design program, he also did a bit of research on Hill's Books, concentrating on the images and styles they'd adopted over the last twenty-some years of their existence. Extracting his tablet and stylus from his bag, he quickly mocked up a few sketches just before five o'clock rolled around, and he left work with a bit of excitement roiling in his belly.

Stopping at the daycare to pick up Jamie, the pair made their way home, a short trip at the store done as swiftly as possible before getting home. The mailbox bank was bare, with Holly having shot him a text saying she had gotten out of the meeting later than she'd hoped and that she would be home after them. Taking that in stride, the Rogers boys went upstairs, Steve changing out of his office wear and starting dinner as Jamie indulged in playing with his race car toys for awhile. In between crashing them and driving them off the sofa, he bounced into the kitchen, intent on helping his father in whatever way he could. Directing him to be careful, Steve instructed him to bring the plastic plates and forks to the table, hoisting the little guy up to help him mash up the instant potatoes to go with the chicken frying in the nearby pan. Light knocks came at the door just as the older man was removing everything from the burners, his boy running to get the door himself before his father could say a word. Happy cries echoed as Jamie hugged Holly in hello, and Steve grinned as she walked with him into the kitchen. She'd taken enough time to slip into casual wear herself, the dip of her sweatshirt exposing a shoulder and the strap of the tank top underneath it. His gaze darkened a bit at the sight of her tousled hair and comfy clothes, and he held her for several moments as she wrapped her arms around him.

Dinner passed well enough, Jamie dominating the conversation with how daycare was going. His caretaker was impressed with his progress with the alphabet and numbers, and had said he would more than ready for preschool in the fall. Pleased for him, Holly congratulated the little guy, asking him what he would be learning next. The hope was to learn numbers up until twenty, and the caretaker had a few more songs to teach before the summer was over, and he looked forward to it. Steve imparted how one song, taken from a recent Disney film involving sisters and an eternal winter, was on repeat in his backseat until they'd gotten home. Muttering how she couldn't wait until he stumbled across more of the classics, Holly covered her laughter with a hand, Steve clicking his tongue at her while struggling to hold down his own chuckles.

When the young boy was finished with his meal, he was allowed to go into the living room and play again. Jamie did so, grabbing the remote and turning the television on beforehand, crowed in delight at the cartoon playing on the channel they'd left it on. Once he was thoroughly occupied with his farm animal toys, Steve carefully pushed their finished dishes out of the way and gestured for Holly to get started. She'd brought with her work bag, her laptop coming to hand as well as a few printed papers. They were preliminary contracts, and they briefly touched on those before she brought up the ideas the company was looking at. Not only did they wish for an overhaul of the website, but they were looking into some for their interoffice paper stock, business cards, and other such items. Sitting right beside her, Steve nodded every few moments as she spoke, the pair of them pouring over her materials and deciding how to proceed from there. Tapping a thumb along the edge of the table, the blond man reached down for his own bag tucked beside his chair.

"I think there might be a few things I can do. Starting some color choices, a little experimentation to the parameters set by the company," he told her, bringing out his tablet and allowing her to page through the sketches he'd done. The font for the company name had been altered to have more of a serif motif, the colors inverted on a couple, and one of the last ones an overhaul, with the words made up by the spines of famous novels. Holly, spying the last one, grinned widely at him, impressed by the little he'd already come up with. Shrugging a shoulder, he went on, "My boss doesn't have any problem with me picking up a few freelance projects, so that shouldn't be an issue."

That was true; as far as the graphic design team went, they were given quite a bit of leeway in regards to picking up additional projects. He'd called Tony on the way home, catching him on his cell and running the idea by him, and so long as Shield Advertising received some sort of credit (even if the form it came in was just saying he was employed by them), it wouldn't be a terrible problem.

Holly's grin turned into a full-fledged smile, and her dark irises lit up.

"Thank you. It just, the website overhaul was pushed up in the calendar, and I mean, Darcy is brilliant, but we can only do so much," she intoned, brushing aside her own work in that moment. About to say something in regards to that, Steve found that she was pointedly tapping at the few preliminary papers she'd brought with. "I can email you some of the necessary forms and such to fill out when I get in tomorrow, after paging through these. And you may have to cross town to visit the office to complete the rest."

Looking at the papers, the prelude to the contract he would sign to take on the job, he blew out a fast breath.

"Crap. You're lucky I like you," he said, freezing for a moment after the words dripped from his mouth. Pink immediately burned in his ears, and he began to study the borders of the pages with great interest. At least, until her hand came to rest upon his shoulder and he looked up at her. A flush was in her cheeks, but she did not look put off by his statement. Instead, she maintained a pleased expression, something deeper underlining it all in her eyes.

"Very," she murmured, scooting minutely closer to him in her chair. He felt his Adam's apple bob in his throat as he swallowed, his eyes moving from hers down to her lips. He'd made his choice, some time ago, but he had yet to truly act upon it. Maybe now would—

A loud shout came from the living room, causing both of the adults to jump in their seats. Evidently, the show about the sponge at the bottom of the sea was on, and Jamie had cried to the captain on the screen's call. Nervous chuckles passed between them, and Holly let her hand fall away, the heat that had bled through to his skin fading slowly as she suggested they join the little guy for awhile. The work would keep, and most of it would have to be signed off at a later date, anyway. Taking her offer, Steve followed her into the living room, mentally kicking himself for waiting too long yet again. It was becoming a pattern for him, their moments together either interrupted or stalling out as he tried to find the courage to tell her how he felt. Still, she was not leaving him behind, or even leaving the apartment just yet. Instead, they watched as the cartoon played on, the cares of the day settling into something manageable for the time being.

Soon enough, Jamie was yawning more than he was talking, and Steve had taken it upon himself to help his son get ready for bed. In comparison to how the day started, getting ready for sleeping took less time, and for that he was grateful. A final inspection occurred in the hall, and Holly was compelled to watch from the far end, an amused look on her face as the older man crouched down to his boy's height.

"Alright, your PJ's are on, you brushed your teeth. Time for a story and then bed," he said, straightening the hem on the child's shark-themed pajamas. About to take his hand and lead him to his room, Steve was stopped short when Jamie drew away.

"I want Holly to read to me tonight," he murmured plaintively, glancing at the brunette down the hall. Steve's eyebrows inclined a fraction, and he looked to her as well. Holly herself sported surprise. The choice was left in her hands, and she did not find the idea unpleasant in the slightest.

"Sure, kiddo," she said with a smile, striding forward and holding her hand out to him. Nodding fast, the little boy turned and threw his arms around his father's neck, a smacking kiss pressed to his cheek.

"Night, Daddy," he told him, his voice muffled when his little face buried itself into the older man's shoulder. Smiling slightly, Steve wrapped his boy up in a hug, his own kiss planted in Jamie's hair.

"Good-night, buddy."

The little guy soon pealed away, trotting to Holly and taking her hand. The pair of them turned to the door to his room, and Holly, barely had a moment to catch Steve's eye before going in.

"Be back in a few," she promised, an affirmative coming as a hum from the bigger fellow. As she helped Jamie into his bed (superheroes were etched into his comforter, the likenesses of Batman and Superman staring up at them as she did so), the distant clink of dishes resounded, lending credence to the fact that Steve was tidying up the kitchen for the night. With the night-light turned on and a cup of water brought in quickly, Holly took a seat on the edge of the bed, Jamie thrusting a book into her hands as he hunkered down. Inwardly, she smirked at his selection; he still adored Clifford, and from the crack of the pages, that book was one of his newer ones.

As the story of the big red dog learning manners wrapped up, Holly braced herself for the boy to ask for a second reading, like her niece had done in the past, but Jamie merely let out a soft breath. Looking at him, Holly grinned as he rolled onto his back, small fingers plucking at the edges of his comforter.

"I wish I had a big, red dog like Clifford. I could ride him to the park all the time," he said quietly, the usual vim and vigor in his voice lessened as tiredness crept in. The brunette woman nodded at that, setting the book onto the floor gently.

"That you could. It'd be tough finding him a place to sleep in the building, though," she pointed out, light teasing in her tone. The blond boy grinned, and he blinked owlishly at her.

"Could sleep on the roof." Another couple of blinks, and then he reached out and tapped her arm. "I like you, Holly."

Her grin widened a bit, and she replied, "Aw, I like you, too, Jamie."

"So does Daddy," he insisted next, some of his typical enthusiasm returning to him. "He likes you a lot."

Holly felt a blush blossom in her face, and she glanced down at her knees.

"Oh, well, he likes a lot of people."

Jamie shook his head hard then, the taps on her arm turning rapid. "No. He likes you in the way that he wants to kiss you, like in movies. He told me so when I asked him."

The older woman could only gape at the child's pronouncement. Certainly, she knew that she'd been holding onto feelings deeper than friendship for the child's father, but she hadn't thought...had not contemplated that he would profess any such thing. To his son, no less.

"Jamie," she stammered, her shock registering with the boy and his own regret surfacing then.

"Uh-oh. That was a secret. I shouldn't-a said it," he blubbered, burrowing himself under the covers in embarrassment. He'd promised his father he wouldn't ever say anything to Holly, and he just did it. He would be in so much trouble if he found out. Peeping above the sheets, big brown eyes looked at her again. "Don't tell Daddy I told you, please?"

The muffled plea made Holly smile a little, and she shook her head, crossing her heart as she made her own vow.

"I won't, this time. But you gotta not spill stuff like that in the future without it being okay, got it?" she reproved him, eyebrows rising and her chin tipping as she made her point. At once, Jamie nodded, attempting to mimic her action as he scooted up again.

"Mm-hmm," he responded. Tugging at the sleeves of his pajamas, he wondered, "Can I have a hug good-night?"

Opening her arms, she leaned forward, folding the boy into an embrace and smirking to the air over his shoulder.

"Night," she murmured, giving him one last squeeze before letting him lie back. Getting up, she paused at the door, doing a final check of the room as he turned over to the face the opposite wall.

"Night-night," Jamie mumbled, well on his way to dreamland then. Turning the doorknob as quietly as she could, Holly backed out of the bedroom slowly, shutting the door as she released a gentle breath. Movement registered to her left, and she nearly leaped out of her skin when it formed into Steve.

"Steve! Holy crap, you scared me," she said, her tone deliberately hushed even as her fright petered off into wry chuckles. Patting a hand on her chest and fanning herself with the other, she steadied her breathing before looking up. "How long have you been out here?"

The older man's expression did not sport anything close to amusement. Instead, a form of distress and frustration was on his face, and his eyes did not quite meet hers. Hands fidgeted at his side, and at the sight, she felt a sinking in her gut.

"Long enough," he pronounced, gaze rising and flicking at the door she'd just come through. The color began to drain from her face then, and she couldn't help but shrug up her shoulders a bit.

"So you heard..." she trailed off, tipping her head back towards the boy's door. Steve spiked an eyebrow, and let out a rueful scoff.

"Heard my kid blab that to you? Yeah."

Holly felt her heart leap into her throat, and her articulation fled in that instant.

"Well, um..."

His gaze remained on her, taking in the flush of her cheeks and the curves of her form, his head tilting slightly as he looked at her.

"I also didn't hear something," he stated slowly, his gaze narrowing the slightest bit. "I didn't hear you say anything about it."

Caught then, she opened her mouth, yet no words could come out. She hadn't said anything to his son because...well, because he wasn't the one to tell. However, from the slow downturn of his face, Steve had taken her absence of speech as a form of rejection. As he turned to walk away, she thawed, stepping forward and catching him at the elbow. When he looked back over his shoulder at her, she found her breath again.

"Is it true? That you like me, and want to kiss me like in the movies?" she asked him bluntly, wincing at her tone even as she said it. Little by little, Steve turned, the space between them closing as he approached her. Once more, she was struck by his size, his posture, and the growing smolder in his gaze.

"...Yes, it is," he confessed, glancing down at his feet as his tone dropped a few notches above a whisper. "All of it."

"Ah. Good," she stumbled lamely, tucking back her hair behind her ear and taking in a deep breath. He'd managed to find his courage; she would do no less in that moment. It had been long enough, anyway. "Because I feel the same way. And I want you to kiss me, too."

Blue eyes trailed back up then, darkening the longer he looked at her. Slowly, he nodded at her, his feet moving on their own accord. Doubt, worry, and fear gnawed at his stomach, but it was overridden by the want and the desire to do as they both wished. Unconsciously, she partially turned, her back going up against the wall as he approached. Her eyes were half-lidded, the glow of the living room light beyond the hall catching her brown eyes and making them appear unfathomable. Steve's breath stuttered as he got closer, one hand cupping her cheek and the other tentatively palming her waist. Her own came up, the fingers toying with the buttons on the button-up he hadn't changed out of upon returning from work. Leaning closer, the tip of his nose bumped hers.

"Holly," he breathed, lips hovering barely an inch away from hers. She gave the barest incline of her head, permission granted once again, and he gathered his courage. The first brush of lips was faint, almost a tease, but the second was stronger. The rush of feeling poured through his veins, the heat and longing accompanied by relief at fulfilling the deep desire they'd both been harboring.

"Steven," she whispered, his full first name dripping sweetly from her lips when they withdrew moments later. A low, rumbling groan was stifled in his chest, and she giggled, the breathy sound driving him to lean down again. As she met him partway for another kiss, their mouths barely connected before another sound clawed through the air.

"Daddy!" Jamie cried, the sleepy voice muffled by the closed bedroom door. It was not an altogether uncommon occurrence, though it had been happening less as the boy got older. Still, it happening then was less than ideal for the couple in question wrapped in each other's arms in the hall. Another groan rippled up in Steve, one that spoke more of minor frustration than anything else. Squeezing his eyes shut, he braced his forehead against Holly's, her stifled giggle causing him to bump the end of her nose with his again.

"Don't move. I'll be back," he whispered, grinning down at her as she smiled back. A last, swift peck was dealt before he pushed away, and her fingertips trailed down his arm as he went, little shivers coursing up and down his spine. Softly, he opened the door to his son's room, ducking into the darkened space and crossing over to the bed. The four-year-old blinked sleepily in the wash from his night-light, and the father knelt down beside his mattress, putting himself on the same level. "Hey, bud, what is it?"

The little boy opened his mouth, yawning first before answering, "'M thirsty."

Steve's eyes flicked to the night stand, where a partially-filled cup sat. "You have your water, Jamie."

"Oh," the little guy murmured. His small brow screwed up, and he pushed himself up on his elbows. "Can't I have juice?"

"No, your water is just fine. Go to sleep," Steve commanded gently, one palm bracing on his son's shoulder and carefully guiding him to lie back down. It may have been summer, but Jamie still needed at least eight hours, and shortening them was not what he wished to do that evening. Dipping his chin, the blond boy sported a slight pout as he hunkered back down under his comforter. Something in his brown eyes glimmered, and he brought his hands up to hide behind them.

"Daddy?" he said, peeping between the fingers. Raising an eyebrow, Steve began to tidy the covers over him again.

"Yeah, pal?"

Jamie gave an audible swallow, like he'd seen in the movies, and his father had to hold back a chuckle when he muttered, "I told Holly. 'Bout your secret. I'm real sorry."

The father blinked at that. He hadn't expected the boy to be so forthright, at least not at that hour, but he had to hand it to him. Jamie looked rather trouble by what he'd done, and it wasn't often that he did spill secrets, even at his age. Thinking that his own guilt was punishment enough, Steve shook his head.

"It's okay. Just try better to not tell next time, alright?" he told him, waiting until Jamie nodded comprehension before doing so himself. Smoothing down the comforter, he brushed at the stray blond locks flopping into his son's eyes, a wry grin appearing on his lips. "Besides, it all worked out, anyway."

Jamie brought his hands down, affixing him with a quizzical look. "It did?"

The smiler became broader, and Steve dipped his chin. "Yeah. Turns out, she likes me, too."

"Really?" Despite the leap of excitement dancing along his irises, Jamie was being lulled further into sleep by his dad's ministrations.

"Mm-hmm," the older man hummed in confirmation, leaning forward and planting a kiss in the boy's hair as his eyelids drifted shut. "Night, son."

The little guy's reply was garbled, and slowly Steve edged away from the mattress, standing up silently and tiptoeing backward to the door. Once he was out and the door was shut mutely behind him, he let out a slow sigh, smirking to himself as the memory of Jamie's apology flitted through his mind. He meant well, he knew that, and besides, maybe it was exactly the kick in the pants he needed to get the girl. Dipping his chin once, he turned and looked to the end of the hall. It was now empty, and he felt his brow screw up a little in confusion. Following to the end of it, he paused at the edge of the living room space. Holly was now perched on the sofa, her dark waves loosened and her legs curled up underneath her as she sat. A faux frown came to his lips, which he struggled to maintain when she playfully stuck her tongue out at him.

"You moved," he stated, a teasing glare shot at her. Her chin lifted, and she leaned back against the cushions.

"The couch is comfier," she retorted, patting the empty seat beside her for effect. He shook his head, raking a hand back through his hair before crossing the room.

"Fair point," he replied, setting himself down beside her. His fingers brushed along her arm, sliding down to link with hers as they both sported sheepish grins. Biting the inside of his cheek for a few seconds, he leveled a look at the young woman to his left. "Holl?"

"Yeah?" she wondered, tilting her head to the side. The fall of her hair over her shoulder distracted him for a moment, but he soon enough cleared his throat. His free hand, hidden on the other side of his leg, began to pick at the hem of his jeans, his bright gaze averting briefly. Inhaling sharply, he grasped at the gumption he'd found before, raising his chin and meeting her dark eyes directly.

"Go out with me? Will you, I mean?" he asked, the prickling feelings of doubt and worry darting along his skin as she narrowed her eyes in a thoughtful squint. Clicking her tongue, she gave a mocking sigh.

"I suppose," she intoned, the words riding on her exhale. However, her gaze had veritably glittered in the lamplight, and her beam grew to match the one he was sporting. "Yes."

Unable to help himself, Steve cupped her face with both hands, drawing her in yet again. Kissing her soundly, he was tempted to follow through on deepening it when he caught the sharp gasp coming from the hall. At once, Holly broke away from him, the pair turning to look in that direction. Jamie, instead of staying in bed as he was told, was there, his little face screwing up as he waved his hands frantically through the air.

"Eww!" he groaned, sticking out his tongue and lolling his eyes back and forth. Holly, quickly covering her mouth with a palm, barely stifled a shocked chuckle, the flush in her cheeks prevalent. Steve, looking at his son, sighed in exasperation.

"James," he remonstrated, getting up and walking fast to catch the little guy before he could beat a hasty retreat. Catching the four-year-old up in his arms, he glanced back at Holly once more, giving her the one-minute gesture before walking the squirming Jamie back to bed. It would only take a moment, and besides, they had plans to make now.

* * *

 **A/N:**...You may commence with however much excitement you had building up to this moment.

Yep, Steve and Holly finally admit their feelings, and kiss. And then are subsequently blocked by Jamie, but hey, happens to plenty of couples in real life.

I hope the pacing isn't coming off too poorly to some people. In the story time-line, it's been about four-five months since Holly and Steve have met, and while I don't claim to understand how fast widowers get into relationships after the passing of their loved ones (I've heard stories about some people dating within _weeks_ of their partner dying), but, well...it has been over three years for Steve in this story. I didn't think it would hurt for them to start getting together now...eight chapters in.

I own nothing from the MCU, nor do I own any other pop culture references made in the text (Marvel comics, etc.).

Thanks for reading, please review, and I'll see you all for the next one!


	9. Chapter 9

The last Friday in July seemed to crawl by for Steve Rogers, for multiple reasons. One of which was that his designs for updating the logos and such for Shield Advertising were under scrutiny that day, and he had to wait to hear back upon them.

And another, far more enthralling reason, was that he would be going on his date with Holly that night.

The week and few days that had passed since he'd worked up the nerve to kiss her, after his son spilled the beans about his feelings for her, had passed by smoothly. He almost felt as if he was floating on air And, if Holly's own happy looks and wide, warm smiles were anything to go by, she felt the same. His son, having been the catalyst of the situation, merely screwed up his face and faux-gagged whenever the couple lingered in their embraces, their chaste pecks at the doors and mailboxes called gross by the four-year-old. Still, he couldn't quite bring himself to mind it.

(On Holly's end, she sent him a text relaying Darcy's pleasure at the news of their planned outing. Evidently, it was "about damn time" in the other woman's eyes, and he couldn't help but snort out a bit of laughter at that.)

Soon enough, the clock wound down to four in the afternoon, and Steve took it upon himself to leave work a little earlier than usual. Fetching up Jamie from daycare, he was surprised to find the boy tired after a long day of playing with his young friends. It was impossible to keep him awake, and by the time they arrived home, Steve was carrying him in as he tip-toed, laying him on his bed and tucking his soft blanket around him. With the little guy taken care of, he was quick to get himself ready. His work shirt was swapped with another dress shirt, the deep blue article tucked into the waistband of his good jeans. Debating between a leather jacket and tie, or a suit jacket, the suit jacket eventually won out. Washing his face and brushing his teeth again for good measure, he slapped on a bit of cologne that he rarely used, the bottle dug out from the deep recesses of his closet the night before.

Rolling up his sleeves, he eyed up the clock and his cell phone, the final part of the plan having yet to come through. Eventually, the message he'd been waiting for came through, and he quickly went out into the living room, his jacket thrown over his arm as he began to shuffle the toys and crayons Jamie had left out into their proper places. When the buzzer resounded, he quickly thumbed the release on his end to open up the entryway downstairs. Three thudding knocks rebounded off the door several minutes later, just as he set one of his boy's coloring books on the dining room table, and he felt his shoulders constrict against the jump he nearly indulged in.

"Come in!" Steve called, the suit jacket dropped on the back of the nearest chair. Quickly, he pivoted, looking to see if there was anything left to tidy in that moment.

"You know, despite the security access for this building, you are being way too trustworthy," called the new arrival from the door, and the blond man turned in time to see his oldest friend step through the door. Bucky Barnes hadn't changed much in appearance since the last time they saw one another, save for the slight crinkles at the corners of his eyes and the new, raked cut of his hair. And his left sleeve was pinned up from where his upper arm ended, the lasting evidence of his final days on maneuvers carried back home with him there as ever. The red Henley he wore covered up the further evidence of the scars along his shoulder and torso as well, but he still looked decent. (At least he looked like he was sleeping more than he had years ago, his treatment ongoing and progress being made, his friend had noted inwardly.)

That had been a day from hell, the unit they'd both been assigned to engaged in a bloody exchange for hours before help could come. Some, like Steve, had come away with nary a scratch, but Bucky had come away screaming in terror and rage, the blood loss and defunct left arm barely allowing him to hang on. Emergency treatment was given back at the base before he was airlifted to Germany for a proper going-over, and at the end of it, he was given an honorable discharge and was sent home. Steve would not be able to do himself for a few more months, his own scars borne under the surface. At least he had Peggy to go home to, the daughter of a soldier and a woman from a long line of military members.

Bucky had to figure out life from there, with one arm less and his entire outlook almost obliterated as well. The last few years, though, he'd been coming back to himself, pieces mended or made new in an attempt to survive. Physical and mental therapy were also major contributors, and slowly, the young man he used to be was given the chance to peek through once more.

Outwardly, Steve rolled his eyes at his friend's pronouncement, but he still smirked and walked over to the foyer.

"Whatever," he grunted, clapping his friend on the back and ushering him inside. "Good to see you, Buck."

"Same to you, punk," the brunet man said, dropping his duffel bag and pushing it to the side with a foot. Following the other man into the apartment, Bucky took a seat on the sofa, snickering as Steve began to ask after his family. His sister Becca had come by the weekend before, her newest baby dandled before the grandparents—and doting uncle—still in residence in the city. His brothers, out in Philadelphia, Albany, and Providence respectively, sent on their well wishes, each tending to their own lives and children of their own. For himself, he was still doing the books for his father's antique store, and working the register every so often (which still bothered him, Steve could see, but the family business was just that, and Bucky was willing to put up with the stares and such due to his arm because of it).

The conversation eventually turned to the examination he'd come down to D.C. for, and the blond man sat forward on his end of the couch. His elbows planted on his knees, and he looked closely at his best friend.

"What did the doctors say?" he wondered, his low tone lending gravity to the words. That day, Bucky had come down to go through the actual physical examinations with the doctors heading the trial Stark was funding. Once he'd qualified, he had been informed of the rigorous and strict tests to measure his faculties all around, and once they'd done so, approval for advancing further could be granted. The brunet man picked at the hem of his jeans, a careful expression on his face.

"Well, the results from my drug and psych exams came back. According to Cho, after those and looking through my history, they've decided I'm worth taking a chance on." As the words sank in, he broke out into a full smile, one filled with a measure of disbelief and relief. "I get fitted for the prosthetic on Monday."

Steve's eyes opened wide, and he grinned as well. Ever since he'd heard about the prospective trials from Tony himself, he'd known that it would be just what his friend needed. Though he handled himself admirably in day-to-day life, it didn't take a genius to figure out how much Bucky would have preferred to have the limb back in some form. If not for the balance, then at least so that he could function and appear whole once more.

"That's amazing," he murmured, so pleased for his friend. Furrowing his brow, he wondered, "How long will that take?"

Bucky shrugged, raking his hand back through his hair and blowing out a breath. It was clear the news was still settling on him, and it would take a bit of time before he could believe his good fortune.

"Likely, it'll be an all-day thing, the surgery. And then there's recovery, and then some abbreviated PT afterward, just to get used to it. The doc said that would continue, just to track it, but once every week until everything has adapted." He had to take the time off from his dad's shop, but his father was more than willing to give his son the chance that the surgery would provide him with. Likely, George and Winifred Barnes would be down on Monday as well, to see him through it. Letting his head fall back against the couch cushion, he let out a sharp breath. "Still can't believe it."

Steve clicked his tongue, crossing his arms over his chest.

"I can. You're precisely the reason why Stark started the program, Bucky. And if the prototype they give you is grafted successfully..." If all went well, it would enable him to live a nearly-normal life again. Which could only help, in the long run, having a second arm once more. Taking a look around the apartment briefly, he offered, "If you want to stay here instead of your place during that, you're more than welcome."

Barnes shook his head at that.

"Thanks, but Wilson is loaning out his second bedroom to me for the next couple of weeks. You don't need me underfoot here." Bucky sat up straight, the fingers of his right hand drumming along his thigh. A small, pained smile dawned on his mouth, and the tentative hope in his irises doubled when he looked up at Steve again. "Two arms again, man. I've got a chance."

The blond man nodded, the men silently pondering the implications of the surgery, should it be successful. After a couple of minutes spent in that fashion, Barnes tipped his head to the side, recalling where he was and pinning his friend with a questioning look.

"So while I'm celebrating with the rug-rat tonight, what will you be off doing?" he asked, leading him in with the inquiry. Rogers huffed out a breath and stood, crossing over to the dining area once more.

"I told you, going out," he said, not wanting to play the game that his pal was insistent on playing. The jacket he'd dropped was retrieved, and he gave it a good shake.

"Uh-huh. Sure," Bucky remarked drily, blatantly shooting him a mocking wink.

"Really, Bucky. I have a date tonight," he affirmed quietly, slinging his suit jacket on. Glancing up, he caught the almost aghast look on his friend's face, and felt a mix of humor and irritation float up inside. Raising an eyebrow, he reminded him plainly, "You agreed to help out."

"I did, but..." Bucky let the words fall away, the statement still hanging in the air between them. It had been a long time since Steve had gone on anything resembling a date, and a part of him had thought he was joking when he asked him to take a little time out of his trip to watch his nephew. He'd been talking about the Holly girl who had moved in a few months ago for awhile, almost since the day after she'd arrived, but he hadn't thought his best friend would get up the cajones to ask her out. Not for awhile, at least. At best, he'd been expecting it to be a feint, but he proven wrong, it seemed. Tilting his head to the side, he blew out a sharp breath. "Holy crap, man."

"I know," Steve responded, a knowing look passed to his friend. Opening his mouth to say more, he was cut off when he spotted the boy appearing at the end of the hall, rubbing his eyes and yawning. Jamie's impromptu nap was over, then, and he was affixing his dark stare onto the new arrival.

"Uncle Bucky?" he asked, a sleepy smile dawning as the brunet man turned in his seat and waved hello.

"Hey, Mini-Me," Bucky greeted his namesake, smiling broadly when the child practically bolted across the room and threw himself across his lap. As the little guy hugged his knees, he chuckled and patted his back. "How are ya, kiddo?"

"'Mfine," Jamie told him, releasing his hold after a few seconds and climbing onto the couch beside him.

Bucky tutted under his breath at that. "Just fine. Nah, we'll have to do something about that. I'll get you past fine while your dad's out."

Jamie's smile slipped a little, and he stood on the couch to look at his father.

"Where you going, Daddy?" he wondered, reaching out for him. Obliging, Steve walked back to the sofa and swept him up, hauling him over the back and into his arms.

"I told you, buddy, I'm taking Holly out to dinner. On a date," he clarified, the tone in his voice making it evident that he'd already provided an explanation that his son had ignored earlier on. The little boy's brow furrowed, and he blinked.

"What's a date? You never said," he remarked, brown eyes imploring his dad to explain. Nodding at his reasoning, Steve set him on the ground, kneeling down at his level and going about the task of straightening the boy's clothes.

"It's something grown-ups do when they like each other and want to spend some time together."

Jamie's brow scrunched up further. "But you guys already do that."

"Yes, but it's different, bud," Steve sighed, trying to find a way to extrapolate to his boy so that he would understand. "Before, it was just as friends."

"Aren't you still friends?" Jamie asked then, minute fear registering in his features. If Holly and his daddy weren't friends anymore, he didn't know what he would do. He liked her, a lot, and he couldn't imagine his dad not liking her, either.

"Yeah, of course," the older man emphasized, scratching at the back of his neck and banishing the boy's momentary fear. "Now, it's a little more than that."

The child nodded, his gimlet gaze fastening even harder onto him. "'Cause you kissed her?"

Steve's mouth opened, in the vain hope that he could answer that, but Bucky's shocked voice rang out then.

"Woah, hold the phone. You already made a move on the girl?" he asked, standing up and looking over the couch to his friend. Confronted with the questions and with his ears burning, Steve felt he had no choice but to dip his chin in the affirmative. Bucky let out a low whistle, admiration in his gaze as he mumbled, "Hot damn."

Steve harrumphed. "Yes, and you get to put a quarter in the swear jar now."

Flicking his gaze to the bookshelf along the far wall, to the glass jar on the upper shelf, Steve raised an eyebrow when Bucky let out a low grumble. He maintained the expression until the other man plodded across the floor to it, fetching the jar down and fishing a bit of spare change out of his pocket.

Jamie watched as well, giggling, "Uncle Bucky's always saying stuff like that."

"I know, and that's why he has to put money in the swear jar every time he comes over." Steve turned his gaze back onto his boy, and he asked pointedly, " _You_ haven't been, have you?"

At once, the child shook his head vehemently. "No."

"Good."

The clink of a coin nestling among others rattled, and Bucky cleared his throat. "You still haven't answered my question. Did you really plant one on her, or is Jamie here telling tales?"

Steve could not help the smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"The kid might like to pretend there are dinosaurs out the window—"

"A T-rex, Daddy!" Jamie sharply corrected him, patting his dad's shoulders and bouncing on the balls of his feet. "It was a T-rex, and it was there."

"Right," Steve intoned absently, trailing his gaze back up to his friend and letting his smile fully spread. "But, well...he wasn't making that up."

Barnes smiled in return, nodding in great approval.

"Nicely done, man. She a good kisser?"

The four-year-old in the apartment screwed up his brow, his tongue lolling out and his body shaking as he expressed his disgust at the turn the conversation had taken.

"Eww!"

"Guess we better stop talking about gross kissing, huh?" Steve said, physically turning his boy and prompting him to go back to his toy bins in the living room. While he did so, though, he caught Bucky's eye again, a slight grin joining a nod. The brunet man held in a chuckle as his friend guided his son to play, straightening after a minute. Noting the time, Steve began to pat down his pockets, asserting that his wallet and cell phone were within reach. His keys, however, were still hanging on the hook, and he moved to grab them up. When they were tucked away as well, he turned, ready to say his farewells for the evening.

He was preempted from doing so when his friend shook his head and crossed over to him.

"Hold on, young man. Before you go out..." Bucky trailed off, reaching into his back pocket and freeing his wallet. Deftly, he managed to remove the single packet within as it sat in his palm, years of practice allowing him to do so. Holding the packet between his index and middle fingers, he gestured out to Steve. "Take this."

Holding out his own hand, the blond man waited until the packet was dropped into his grip before really looking at it. Once he did, blood flushed into his face and he began to sputter. Bucky, for his part, could barely hold back the laughter, guffawing at his friend's obvious discomfort.

"For God's sake, it's a first date," Rogers grumbled, pinching the condom between his thumb and forefinger, holding it away from himself like it was diseased. Barnes took his turn to roll his eyes, the smile curving his mouth not dissipating in the slightest.

"Oh, please. Like people don't sleep together with less to go on than you guys," he noted aloud, the corners of his eyes crinkling as his friend glared at him. Cupping his hand in the air, he excused himself, "I'm just saying, it's better to have protection."

The red in Steve's face flushed deeper, and he scrubbed his free palm down his face.

"Buck, I'm, we're not gonna—"

"Protection?" piped up a small voice, Jamie's presence reasserted in that moment. He'd stopped playing long enough to wander near them again. He hadn't heard much of what his daddy and uncle were talking about, but that single word had caught his attention.

Hastily, Steve shoved the foil square into his back pocket, right next to his wallet. The muted glared he shot his best friend was brushed away he looked down at his son, shaking his head.

"We'll talk about it when you're older, bud," he said, the tone in his voice effectively ending that line of questioning. Squatting down, Steve laid his hands on Jamie's shoulders, bright eyes meeting dark as they looked at one another. "Now, you be good for Uncle Bucky, got it? Stay away from any T-rexes you see."

Jamie nodded vigorously; dinosaurs were not a threat to be taken lightly. "Yes, Daddy."

Smirking, Steve drew in the little guy for a quick hug, ruffling his hair as he stood. "Alright. I'll be back before it's too late."

"Or don't be," Bucky retorted then, an eyebrow spiking and a snarky grin decorating his lips. "We'll be fine, either way."

The blond fellow's smirk fell away, and he scoffed aloud.

"You're an ass," Steve remarked dryly. As his oldest friend opened his mouth to respond, he cut him off. "And I already put my quarter in the swear jar, before you got here. As per usual."

Unperturbed by the statement, Barnes inclined his chin. "Ah, you've learned."

Sighing through his nose, Steve brushed his palms down the sides of his jeans and bid them both a final farewell before stepping out the door. The walk of a few feet from his to Holly's apartment seemed all at once interminable and rapid, his heart thumping in his chest as he approached. It had been awhile since he'd been on a first date, and even longer since he'd been on one with a woman he truly cared for, and he couldn't help the snap of nerves as he walked. Pausing in front of her door, he took in a deep breath before knocking, bouncing a little on the balls of his feet as he waited.

"Wait!"

Hearing the call, Steve's head whipped around, watching as his son ran down the hall to him. Wondering what he could possibly have forgotten or what the boy could need in the few seconds he was gone, Steve bent at the waist, fingers clasping his child's hand as he reached out to him.

"Buddy, what—" he started, the click of a lock sliding away reaching his ears. The door opened then, and both boy and man looked at the woman now standing in the frame.

A shaky breath was taken in as Steve's gaze roamed over Holly. Her work clothes had been exchanged for the purple dress she'd worn months ago, the one she'd donned for her night out with Darcy. It fit her well, the skirt ending at the knee and the soft play of the material along her curves drawing him in. Her hair was swept up off her neck, pulled back into a bun and wispy tendrils framing her face.

"My goodness, am I going out with two handsome men tonight?" she teased upon seeing both Rogers boys on her doorstep. Giving Steve a discreet wink, she intoned, "I've gotten lucky, I think."

Jamie chuckled, and Steve quickly collected his faculties as his son stepped forward.

"I'm not going, I just forgot to tell Daddy to hug you for me," he told her, staring up at Holly.

She dipped her chin at that, and opened her arms. "Oh, well, since you're here, you don't have to."

At the opening, Jamie skipped up to her, barely waiting until she squatted down before wrapping his arms around her neck.

"You look pretty," he tried to whisper, his hushed tone amplified enough so that his father could hear him as well. Drawing back, he grinned when Holly gave him a smile. Before she could give her thanks, though, another voice cut in.

"That she does, Jamie. That she does."

Glancing over, the brunette woman rose from her crouch, her dark brown eyes looking over the other fellow in the hall. Tall, well-built with blue eyes and dark hair...and missing his left arm...Steve's descriptions of him rang through her mind, and soon enough, he affirmed her suspicions of who the newcomer was.

"Holly, this is my best friend, James Barnes," Steve introduced him, gesturing to him and stepping behind her slightly. Holly nodded, her gaze fixing pointedly on the brunet fellow's face rather than the folded sleeve. Steve had told her multiple times about the man he viewed almost like a brother, and about certain circumstances of his life. It didn't surprise her that he appeared then, given how the blond fellow had recruited him to watch his son, and she was anticipating the meeting at some point in the evening. Extending her hand, James took it, his strong grip enfolding hers and an easy grin dawning on his lips.

"Just Bucky, thanks. And you must be Holly." Cornflower blue eyes slid over her blatantly once he dropped the handshake, and while Holly fidgeted slightly under the appraisal, she was unaware of the furrow of her date's brow and the frown puling at his lips. Bucky's smile spread wider, and inwardly, he couldn't resist teasing his best friend for another minute or two. "Hmm, Stevie's description of you doesn't really do you justice."

A harsh breath was driven out of Steve's nose, the blond man rolling his eyes as the young woman before him blinked and cleared her throat.

"Oh, well, um, thanks," she murmured, unconsciously stepping backward. Her arm brushed against Steve's, and the pair of them seemed to relax minutely at her accidental touch. Tipping her head in his direction, she conceded, "He probably exaggerated a bit."

"Not at all," Bucky intoned, giving a last once-over for good measure. Pretty little thing that she was, Steve was more than welcome to her. Barnes' own taste ran slightly more wild, personally, but he didn't begrudge the warmth the young woman exuded. Shaking his head, he looked down at Jamie, the mischievous set of his features melting away as he nodded back to the apartment. "Well, kid, you got your hug. C'mon, we got some Sponge-thing to watch."

"Spongebob!" Jamie corrected him sharply, dipping his chin when his uncle merely sighed and nodded.

"Have a good night, you two," the brunet man said, a fast look shot to Steve before he took the young boy's hand and began walking him back to the apartment. The pair left in the hall waited until the other two were safely indoors again, each one letting out a silent sigh of relief.

"On that note, would you like to go?" Steve inquired, tipping his head toward the exit.

"Sure. Just let me grab my purse," she said, ducking back inside to grab it up. As she began to fish her keys out of the purse, Steve's eyes wandered over her once more, noting the low heels she wore and the tone of her legs. He swallowed lightly, hands going into his pockets briefly.

"Jamie was right, by the way. You do look lovely," he announced, warmth infusing his tone.

Another flush of pink rose in her cheeks, but her smile did not waver as she locked her door.

"Thank you," she replied, tucking her keys away and facing him again. Reaching up, she fingered the edge of the dress by her shoulder, canting her head slightly. "Though I think he only used 'pretty.'"

Steve hummed at that. "I suppose I do have the advantage of an expanded vocabulary. And the experience to judge."

Holly snickered lightly, the words affecting her even as she gave him a mocking wink.

"Smooth."

The blond man tipped his head to the side, honesty and sincerity in his face as he looked at her.

"I just know what I'm talking about." His bright gaze slid over her then, and a different set of shivers coursed down her spine as he took in his fill of her. "And it's not exaggerating."

Inhaling deeply, she let her lips curl into a smirk, taking his hand when he offered it to her. Instead of immediately lacing their fingers together, he moved it to rest in the crook of his elbow, guiding her towards the stairs at the end of the hall.

Steve bundled Holly into his SUV, the silence in the back seat a little strange when it registered. However, he was distracted by the music she selected for them on the way over to dinner, the jazz something they both could listen to without a qualm. The ease he felt in her presence soothed his nerves somewhat, a few words exchanged as they made their way across the District.

It wasn't a terribly long trip to the outdoor lot down the block from the restaurant, and it would only be a minute or two at the meter before they got in to order. Opening the car door for her, Steve placed Holly's hand in the crook of his arm again, smirking as she looped it through with alacrity. Detouring to the meter, he reached into his back pocket, withdrawing his wallet swiftly. A small, square packet fluttered out as he did so, the glint of the lowering sun glancing off of it as it landed on the pavement. Before Steve could say a word, or stop her, Holly stooped down to pick it up for him.

"Oh, you dropped..." she trailed off, really looking at what was in her hand then. Her eyes widened, pink smattering across her cheekbones, and her bottom lip was bitten by the time she finally looked up at him. For his part, Steve's jaw had gone slack, horror and embarrassment flushing through him as he stared at the foil packet as well. Slowly, his tongue came unglued from the roof of his mouth, and he began to stutter out an explanation. He really didn't know what he could say, but he knew he had to say something. He didn't want her to be offended, or disgusted by the inadvertent implications it could have on their evening.

"I, I...Bucky, he was just trying to poke fun at me earlier, gave it to me. I swear, I wasn't gonna push, I don't expect—"

Holly's free hand came up, waving away his words and cutting him off.

"Steve, Steve," she broke in, halting his speech. Shrugging a shoulder, she continued, "It's alright. Just, here."

She proffered the packet to him again, trying to soften the tense exchange with a smile, but Steve merely frowned and took it from her without meeting her gaze. Half-turning from her to the pay meter, he began to scratch at the side of his neck, debating whether or not to even bother with sliding his credit card in. His shoulders tensed, as the thought that she might ask him to take her home flashed through his mind as he tucked the condom back into his pocket.

"Blew it before we even got out of the parking lot," he mumbled, and she felt a surge of guilt rise in her. Her amusement in the situation was feeding into his humiliation, and his own insecurities about the evening. He truly had wanted it to work so badly, and what did he think of himself if he thought their chances were ruined with one (tasteless) joke made by a friend? Holly shook her head, curling her fingers around his elbow and waiting until his eyes trailed back to hers.

"No, you didn't blow it at all," she said, her voice a few notches above a whisper, sliding her palm up and squeezing his bicep. After a few moments, he let a cautious grin curve a corner of his mouth, and when he nodded, she let her fingers run down to lace with his. As he paid for the parking, and began to lead the way out of the lot, she felt a bit of cheek and honesty flutter through her, and she cleared her throat. "I will say, though, should we get to that point in the future...you're buying fresh. I don't trust wallet condoms."

A little shocked by her admission and possible forethought, Steve stalled in his steps, heat flushing through him as she was pulled to a stop by him.

"Oh," he breathed, his ears burning pink and a bashful smile pulling at his lips when she looked up at him. "Yes, ma'am."

Her own cheeks flushed at his agreement, and she tipped her head out toward the street.

"Shall we?" she asked. After all, they did have a dinner reservation to make.

The Italian restaurant he'd chosen was cozy, a table for two near the side designated for their use. Good red wine was indulged in along with prosciutto di parma. When the entrees arrived, the conversation had long since changed from the awkward one had in the parking lot. Holly asked about Steve's progress in helping update Shield's designs, which he was nearly finished with. Once Tony gave the final okay, everything could start to be altered, and his design would be on everything from business cards to parts of the interior decorations. After several weeks of hard work, it was a true joy to see it come to fruition. She praised him, noting that he deserved to have his work out there like that; he was more than capable as an artist and designer, and she was pleased for him. Taking her words of encouragement with a shrug and a smile, he was intent on asking after other matters. Her family, he knew, would likely have gotten in touch with her, and he was a little eager to know more about them. Her brother was neck deep in a restoration project, taking on a Chevrolet Impala at her behest (something to do with one of her favorite television shows, but the blond man took it in stride). Her sister was plotting out lesson plans for the new school year less than a month away, her little sons often competing for her attention as the summer went on. Steve then inquired after Holly's own work projects, about how the upper management was taking her suggestions and such over the last few months, and she answered that they seemed to like her, overall. She was a risk they were glad to take.

On that, Steve could not help but concur. Privately, of course, but he did agree.

When the meal was finished, he took her hand, leading her left and away from the parking lot. A few blocks on, he stopped in front of an older building, the three floors of windows bright with all the lights turned on. The sign on the sidewalk proclaimed it to be a free dance night, hosted by the instructors within. No doubt it was a ploy made to interest people in actual lessons, but when Steve had read about it online (browsing for date ideas, and he wasn't ashamed to admit it), he couldn't be bothered to mind.

Holly, for her part, looked impressed that he had followed through on that part of the planned outing.

"Wow," she breathed, her dark eyes wide and a surprised smile blooming on her lips. Brushing her palm down the skirt, she muttered, "When you suggested dancing, I thought..."

"That I was kidding?" Steve supplied, shrugging a shoulder and grinning bashfully. "Well, maybe a little, at first. But hey, who actually does dinner and dancing, real dancing, as a first date anymore? Figured we could give it a try."

Eagerly, Holly nodded, the minor trepidation in her irises not eclipsing the excitement growing within her.

"Yeah. We can," she stated, following as he led her inside. They were directed up to the second floor, where the instructor for beginning couples was stationed. A few other couples were already on the floor, a few taking their chances on the slow, swinging music playing. The instructor supervising the event approached them, introducing herself as Sarah and inviting them to show off what they already knew. Faced with the enthusiasm of the green-eyed woman with bouncing blonde curls, they were hardly able to demur. The nerves surfaced again as the pair dropped his suit jacket and her purse on one of the chairs nearby, and Holly swallowed as Steve's hand slid from her waist to the small of her back. "Hope I don't drag you down."

"Hope I don't step on your feet," he countered, taking one hand in his and helping position the other on his shoulder. It had been years since he'd had to dance in any capacity; Peggy had insisted on a few lessons before their reception, and it was not an experience he often repeated afterward. Not outside the privacy of their own home, anyway. Diffidence flashed over his features, and he shuffled his feet. "I'm not very good at this."

The hand in his squeezed then, and he looked up in time to see encouragement in her own gaze.

"We'll figure it out together," she whispered, a final squeeze given as a prompt to start. With Sarah overseeing them for the first few minutes, he led her around the floor, avoiding the other couples as best he could. It was true, he was no dancing master, but he had a litheness to his movements that was not otherwise apparent, and the instructor picked up upon that quickly. Where he attempted to use fluidity, Holly was more inclined towards the technical. As it was a beginner's lesson, Sarah merely nudged them one way or another, enticing the bigger fellow to be bolder in his steps or telling the brunette to let her feet move without over-thinking it. The music changed, the beats passed, and the time spent in each other's arms was passed with some laughter and genuine effort on their parts.

It was well past dark when they exited the studio, the other couples around them in similar states of weariness and pleasure as the crowd spilled onto the sidewalk. A light breeze had picked up, softening the humidity and heat left over from the day.

Crooking her hand to rest along his elbow, Holly let out a small, pleased sigh.

"So, I think it's safe to assume we aren't gonna be talent scouted for the next huge dance movie, but we did alright," she pronounced, palm sliding up to squeeze Steve's bicep as she giggled.

"Got through it without bumping into anyone else, at least," the blond man said, the pair of them silently recounting one of their earlier efforts and sharing in embarrassed chuckles. The couple they bumped backs with were ultimately quite forgiving, but neither of them had entirely recovered from it.

Tipping her head back, Holly blinked and smirked. "And next time, we'll be even better than we were tonight."

Steve's steps slowed, and she brought her head back to look at him properly. Inquisitiveness overtook his features. That, and something akin to happiness bubbling below the surface.

"So you're open to a next time, then?" he asked aloud, attempting to keep his tone nonchalant. A frisson of nerves struck her then; perhaps she'd come off as too eager. However, there was no going back on what she expressed. Her free hand fell along the side of her dress, fingers curling to the material of her skirt as she let out a breathy chuckle.

"Too soon to say that, huh?" The burning in her ears was all the more apparent, but she didn't dare look him in the eye again. Not just yet. Heat encompassed the hand on his bicep, his fingers brushing tenderly over hers.

"No, no, just...just making sure I heard you right," he stated, his voice lowering at the admittance underlying the words. Lifting her gaze then, she pushed down the nerves and let the corners of her moth curl up.

"You did."

At that, Steve himself could not hold back a grin. His hand slid hers down until it joined with his other one, the fingers lacing together as they walked back to the parking lot. The trip was made in silence, though it wasn't an uncomfortable one. Indeed, even with the honest declaration made earlier, they remained at peace in each other's company right up until the find their way to the SUV. About to open the car door for her, Steve paused, his lip bitten as he considered something. Holly looked up at him, her eyebrows quirking together as she waited for him to speak. Soon enough, he faced her again, inhaling deeply and finally getting the gumption to go on.

"Mind if I ask you on that second date?" he asked her, hope and enthusiasm flooding through him. His heart beat rapidly in his chest as he awaited her answer unaware that hers was doing flip-flops at the thought. However, she affected a playful look, letting go of his hand and tucking back one of the loose strands framing her face.

"Hmm, I need to think about it," she dared to joke, tapping a finger against her chin. Her eyelids lowered, and she peered up at him through the lashes. Resting a hip against the door, she took in a breath and murmured, "Persuade me, maybe?"

Steve's gaze burned as he let go of the handle, his arms curling around her and drawing her close. Before she could utter another word, he claimed her mouth with his. That time, there was no one to interrupt them, and they indulged in their desires. The soft, sweet presses built up, heat and want fueling them onward as Holly felt herself being pulled flush against Steve's body. A shiver and a moan coursed through her as she wound her arms around his neck, an echo of his following hers. Gently, he ran the tip of his tongue along her lip, coaxing her to open up to him. Gladly, she did so, a tentative touch of her own made before he groaned low in his chest. The hard press of his body, the soft sweep of his lips on hers, had her melting. And he could not get enough of the feel of her curves against him, the taste of her mouth and the hitches in her breath all too enticing.

After a few minutes spent in that fashion, they slowed and stopped, breathing heavily as they clung to one another, Steve nuzzling at her temple and Holly wetting her kiss-swollen lips with her tongue.

"That enough, Princess?" he wondered, his breath ghosting over her ear. A low chuckle reverberated through her, and her grasp around him tightened minutely.

"Yes," she said, smiling widely as she realized she was answering both that question, and the one before it.

Whenever the second date would be, she would gladly go with him.

* * *

 **A/N:** Yay, first date fun! And Bucky makes his first appearance in this universe, as well. Fun chapter all around, at least I think so.

Hope it wasn't too corny for you all. I did decide to do dinner and dancing, since that actually is sort of a rare date to go on nowadays. Real dancing, I mean, not that stupid grinding crap that some people pretend is dancing in clubs and stuff...

I own nothing from the MCU, nor do I own any other pop culture references made in the text (Marvel comics, _Spongebob Squarepants_ , etc.).

Thanks for reading, please review, and I'll see you all for the next one!


	10. Chapter 10

After the first date, it was safe to assume that Holly was somewhat floating on air. Though she could admit that she had imagined what it would be like to take the next step with Steve, it was still a bit thrilling to have actually done so. The second date, which actually was a walking trip along the C&O Canal (muggy for the beginning of August, but it did not detract from the beauty of the walk and the enjoyment they got out of each other's company) and a detour at a beer bar on Wisconsin Avenue, was as pleasant as the first, and the progress built from there. As often as they were in company as friends, the increase as they crossed into a relationship was enthralling. And it was becoming a relationship; as Steve had stated once, he never viewed Holly as a fling, and she in turn was not interested in anything short-term, not at that point in her life. She'd never been built to have a flirtation and brief affairs—it wasn't for her, and so she chose carefully in regards to her heart.

Steve was right, she could feel that, and she did not want to squander the chance she had.

Her family, though, had a few opinions. Hank, her brother, did not have any real problem with the idea; he was a single father, too, and wouldn't begrudge his sister dating one. Heather mostly seemed glad that she'd taken the step to even see anyone at all, since her last boyfriend had been about three years prior. As it turned out, the one who really had any objection was her mother (and she supposed her father, too, but Paul Martin could not restrict his twenty-eight-year-old daughter at that point in his life).

Lisa had not been vicious in her concerns. Instead, she'd chosen to take a calmer, more compassionate form, which made Holly feel worse. She would've preferred screaming, she'd thought.

"We just want you to be careful, honey. He sounds like a good man, but, well...he's a single father, and not by choice," Lisa posited as they spoke one evening, the video call turning slightly sour as she, once again, felt as though she had to say something about Holly going out with Steve. Her bright eyes were lined with concern and sympathy, which honestly irritated Holly all the more. As the younger woman grunted and scrubbed a hand over her face, her mother sighed and shook her head. "We just don't want you to get hurt. None of you, really."

Lowering her hand, Holly shot her a deadpan expression. "You give a variation of this pep talk to the girls Hank dates? Because he's one, too."

At that point, Lisa's irritation surfaced, the look she shot her daughter matching the younger brunette's almost perfectly. In the background, Paul paused, poking his head through the door frame, but off a fast glance from Holly, he ducked back out again. He wasn't going to sit through another rehash, and she didn't blame him one bit.

"And their parents probably tell them the same thing," Lisa proposed, cutting into Holly's trailing thoughts. The older woman brushed back a lock of her silvered blonde hair, fully looking at her daughter then. "It isn't a judgment call against this young man. It's just that you need to be aware of the fact that this larger than you two. It's going to come with sacrifices, and you have to be sure that's what you want."

Holly's lips thinned, but she did not say anything. She understood where her mother was coming from, truly; her relationship was not just one between her and the man, but also involved the man's child. Jamie was someone she could not ignore, nor did she wish to. It was a different mindset and way of doing things than she was used to, including a young boy in events that might once have been the domain of two people. However, she was not about to shun him or push him away. She liked Jamie, liked him for the sweet, funny little guy that he was, and wanted him to be a part of things.

It was a warning, though, that she would promise her mother to give full consideration, and had spent several hours afterward lost in thought.

And she would learn, weeks later, all of what she wanted.

It was a Saturday morning, the last in August. In only a few days' time, Jamie Rogers would be starting preschool, and his father could not have been prouder of him in those days, of how big his boy was getting and how he was just speeding along in life. Holly, too, was pleased for the little guy, and had an idea for all of them to commemorate the occasion. After a quick breakfast at home, she went down the hall to their apartment, Steve greeting her at the door with a hello and a fast kiss before pounding feet could be heard tearing down from the boy's bedroom.

"Hey kiddo," she greeted Jamie as he flew to her, swinging him around in a tight hug. The little guy giggled and demanded she do so again and again, but she quickly set him back on his feet after a few moments. Crouching down to his level, she looked him fully in the eye and grinned. "What do you think of going to the carnival today?"

Jamie gasped, nodding enthusiastically. Holly glanced over him to his father, Steve smirking brightly back. She'd texted him with the idea for the day the evening before, but had agreed to keep it as a surprise for the boy. Obviously, he was tickled pink by the idea, and they both delighted in it.

"I wanna go! Please! Daddy, can we please go?" Jamie crooned, whirling around and running to Steve, clutching at the ragged leg of his cut-offs. The older man looked up, shooting a fast wink to Holly as she stood. Grabbing up his phone and keys from the table, he nodded.

"Sure, let's—wait," he cut himself off, looking down at the message that popped up on his phone. Sliding his thumb over the screen and reading quickly, he grumbled, "Oh, shi—darn."

The abrupt slide of joy from his face gave Holly pause, and she frowned. "What's wrong?"

"Message from the boss," he muttered, rolling his eyes heavenward and groaning. "I was supposed to turn in a few mock-ups for a project this week, and they didn't like the initial ones I brought. I have a couple more, but I gotta run them into the office."

The frown deepened, and she clicked her tongue. "Why did he wait until your day off to say anything?"

He let out a long-suffering sigh. "Tony operates on his own schedule."

"You can't email them?"

Steve shook his head, pocketing the phone and beginning to move toward the living room. "Half are here on my laptop, the other half are on my work computer. I don't have remote access, so I have to go."

Holly felt the sinking in her heart as she caught Jamie's watery eyes, the pout of his lip as he followed his father.

"But, but Daddy..." he started, sniffing hard at the idea that Steve couldn't go with them. The bigger blond fellow already had his laptop bag in hand, and he looked down at his boy, appearing to be saddened by the idea, as well. Kneeling down, he laid a hand on his shoulder, the other chucking his son under the chin.

"I'll make it quick as I can," he promised. Flicking his gaze up, he proposed, "You two go on ahead, and I'll catch up."

The brunette woman blinked a bit in surprise, but she was pleased to hear that Steve wasn't altogether abandoning the plan. Instead, it would just be altered a little.

"Yeah, we'll just get a head start," she said, padding around the couch and combing back a few stray strands of the boy's hair. Jamie, who had clearly thought the carnival would be scrapped, glanced up at her, hope returning to his eyes. As she nodded, she murmured, "Maybe we win a few games and get you and your dad some prizes, huh?"

Significantly brightened by the prospect, Jamie dipped his chin again. "...Okay."

It took some finagling, getting his child seat properly situated in her car, but soon enough Holly and Jamie were on their way, Steve giving them both hugs and pecks in farewell, promising to text her as soon as he finished up with his task. The streets around the carnival were congested, but she was able to find a somewhat decent spot only a few blocks away. The cleared space was already full of people, ticket booths by the entry and rides just beyond, waiting for them. The Ferris wheel loomed toward the back, the carousel and spinning apples near at hand. Spying the Tilt-a-Whirl, Jamie was pleading with her to go on that, but she merely smiled and paid the booth manager their fare. Wristbands were given over to them, and she helped the young boy with his.

"Alright, we've got your wristband, and mine, and we have some cash handy for games and food. Where to?" she asked him once the task was finished, his little hand gripping hers and beginning to tow her inside. His eye had now been caught by the duck game, wherein he had to choose three rubber ducks circling in a manufactured pond. Handing over the money, she encouraged him to grab his three favorites. The numbers on the bottom correlated to points, and as it turned out, he did fairly well in choose. Able to walk away with a stuffed monkey and a cheap rubber bone bracelet, they bounced between the ring toss and the spinning apple ride, making themselves dizzy.

Holly was enthralled, enthralled by the child in her care for those hours. For some, it would be easy to write off a young boy as just that, but she took pleasure in figuring out the nuances of his character, in finding out what he liked to do and his aversions. And the pure joy and delight in his face was impossible to overlook, the smile on his face never dimming as he pulled her from one end of the carnival to the other, pointing excitedly at food stands and crowing in delight at the petting zoo in the back.

Eventually, she felt a tell-tale rumble in her pocket, and she fetched up her phone, her own grin broadening as well. Steve had been able to complete his work earlier than expected, and was actually on the grounds. Calling out to Jamie from where he'd been petting a rabbit through the fencing, she motioned for him to meet her by the hand-washing station.

"Okay, kiddo, your dad said that he's over by the mini-donut stand, so let's head over there," she said, his excitement tripling. She barely managed to wrangle him in, telling him that his dad would want his hands clean before meeting up, the effort working to get him to do so. Within minutes, they were crossing through, hand in hand as the crowds had thickened in the hot August afternoon. The humidity had strands of her pony-tail sticking to the back of her neck, and she felt the sweat of their joined palms smushed between their skin, but she would not let him go. Losing Jamie would be a mistake, and she did not intend to make it. Glancing back and asking if he was doing okay, she was cut short when she knocked her shoulder into someone, the force of the impact nearly staggering her. Keeping her balance, she glanced briefly over the person she'd run into, assessing that it was some guy, and she shrugged.

"Excuse me, sir," she apologized, still intent on guiding Jamie through to the other side of the carnival. However, a hand curled around her arm, pulling her up short. Shocked by the touch and the grip, she jerked her head around, fully looking at the stranger she bumped into. It felt as though her heart had both leaped into her throat and sank all the way down to her feet. Her stomach clenched as she took in the criss-cross of scars, marring what would have otherwise been considered an attractive face. Light brown eyes gleamed slightly, and she felt her stomach lurch again. He was strong, stronger than she would've guessed, but the grasp on her arm did not give her much leeway. It wasn't his physical appearance that gave her pause. No, it was that she knew who he was.

Or rather, knew him from what he'd done.

Brock Rumlow wasn't exactly someone Steve could keep a secret about. After all, the man had been the drunk driver that had killed Peggy. Despite having been arrested and imprisoned, he had attempted to contact Steve afterward, in an attempt to tender apologies. However, after several tries and his refusal to accept the blond man's silence, it had fallen upon Steve to get a restraining order. She'd been told of that within the first couple of weeks of dating, so that she would not be in the dark in case anything regarding Rumlow surfaced.

However, there wasn't supposed to be anything surfacing regarding him. He was supposed to still be serving his sentence, for at least another year. Evidently, he'd gotten off early, for reasons she did not know. As she gaped at him, he let the corner of his mouth curl, an eyebrow raising slightly before speaking.

"Just hold on a minute, pretty lady. You're actually just the person I wanted to see."

A tug came at Holly's free hand, and she felt the panic swell as Jamie asked, "Holly, who is this?"

Glancing down at him, she saw the confusion in his little face, him cradling his stuff monkey in his other arm, and she swallowed hard. She couldn't tell him the truth, couldn't tell him that the man was responsible for the accident that had taken his mother from him.

So, instead, she lied.

"I don't know, bud," she breathed, shaking her head and attempting maintain a calm façade. Frightening Jamie was the last thing she wanted, and she had to be wary until it was safe for her to get him out of there. Looking Rumlow directly in the eye, she murmured, "Sir, I think you have me mistaken for someone else."

She wiggled her arm, but the fingers around it tightened slightly. That, and Rumlow's eyes narrowed.

"You're with Rogers, right? Steve Rogers?" he asked, eyebrow raising slightly. Flicking his gaze past her, to the small boy at her side, he continued, "And that's his boy, there."

A sharp shudder ran up her spine. He knew who she was, that she was dating Steve? Had he been stalking her, or did he simply find her through her association with the Rogers boys? Either way, it shook her, and she felt a combination of fear and anger swell inside her.

"That's none of your business," she told him, vehemence bleeding into her voice. She jerked, her arm finally freed from Rumlow's grip. Backing up a step or two, she nodded to the nearest arched exit of the carnival. "You need to go, now."

The older fellow shook his head, stepping in again. "I don't think so. Not before we've talked."

She scoffed audibly, dark eyes flashing with annoyance. "We've talked, we're done. Go, before you really violate the restraining order even further."

"So you do know me," he retorted, a sickly smile dawning on his lips. Disgusted, and with her nerves snapping, Holly stepped back again, half-hiding Jamie with her body as Rumlow rolled his eyes and muttered, "Look, girlie, you've got a clue. So you have to know that I need to—"

"There's a lot of people here, and I _will_ make a scene if you don't leave us alone," she hissed, not willing to give him anymore ground. It was true; a good number of people, of families, had been walking by and around them, several of the adults shooting fast looks of concern at her and the fellow facing off with her. When he dared to take another step toward her, she pivoted fast, scooping up Jamie and holding him close. The nearly five-year-old gave out a yelp, more in shock that he'd been picked up than anything else, but his brown eyes darted anxiously towards the strange man again. Holly stepped back, her fear plainly telegraphed on her face. "Get away from us."

The expression on Rumlow's face darkened considerably, the crosshatch of his scars starkly standing out. "Hold on, now, you little..."

Holly refused to listen to anything else, deciding in that instant that it was time to beat a hasty retreat. Turning, she felt Jamie rock in her arms, the tight snatch at the collar of her shirt joined by one at her back.

"Holly!" he cried, and she stiffened up, the breath in her lungs freezing as she looked around. Panicking, she felt exhaled sharply when she finally spotted the person she'd been longing to see since the exchange began. Steve had appeared, scanning the crowd for his boy and her. Spying them, as well as the man trying to hold them up, the placidity of his face burned away, harsh lines sprouting across his forehead as a frown deepened. In a mere few seconds, he'd run over to them, chopping Rumlow's hand away from Holly and pulling her and Jamie into his embrace. Quickly, he asked if they were alright, one hand cupping Holly's cheek and the other splayed along Jamie's back. Trying her best to swallow back the fear and still the minor shake coursing down her spine, she nodded, the little boy burying his face into her shoulder. She felt more than saw the moment when the switch in her boyfriend was activated, when he channeled his concern for them into the underlying anger. He physically turned as well, sizing up the scarred fellow who had been watching the scene before him with nervous eyes.

"Rumlow," Steve growled, his eyes icy with fury. Fury, and hints of the deep sorrow still there. Stepping in front of his girlfriend and his son, he glared at the other man, the bare two inches difference between the two in height highlighted then. "You have ten seconds to get the hell out of here."

"Daddy?" Jamie chirped, his voice wavering, and on instinct, Holly held him closer, fingers rubbing up and down his back in an effort to soothe. Rumlow glowered back for several seconds, his light brown gaze darting past him to the woman and boy he'd jarred, and then he deflated.

"Look, Rogers, I just wanted to say—"

Steve shook his head almost violently, refusing to put up with another word. "You've made plenty of statements already. Many of them are public record. I'm not interested in another. I thought the restraining order made that clear."

The brunet man's disgruntled look returned, but unlike with Holly, he knew better than to try and physically bully his point through. Instead, he shifted his stance, weight going onto his back foot as he spread his hands out. The crowd of the carnival had moved, giving them all a wide berth, but none of those involved in the confrontation took any notice.

"Look, I'm only doing this because you refuse to hear me out," Rumlow stated plainly, the strange gleam in his eye returning. "What happened was—"

"It was a choice," the blond man ground out, cutting him off yet again. The fraying patience he had was obvious, particularly as he stepped closer to the other man. Each word he spat out was like a brittle chip of ice, flecking and piercing in turn. "The consequences were not what you wanted, but you got into that car. You drove drunk. You killed my wife. I told you, I'm not interested in anything you have to say." Jerking a thumb over his shoulder, Steve dared to lean in a bit closer, driving his final points home. "If you ever come anywhere near my son or her again, I promise that your prison sentence will seem like a paradise in comparison to what I'll do to you. Get out of here."

Rumlow glared back at Steve fully, rooted to the spot for several long seconds. Eventually, he let out a fast breath, shaking his head and rolling his eyes.

"Fine," he grunted, turning to leave. He'd only managed to go a few steps before he looked back at the blond man, the frustration in his face softening slightly. "But for what it's worth, I am sorry."

It wasn't worth much, Holly noted mutely, as she watched Steve's shoulders tighten further, the fist he was clenching at his side turning his knuckle white.

"Get out of here," he rumbled one last time, with Rumlow raising a hand in defeat and brushing it away. The other man finally walked away, melting into the crowds beyond the small ring of spectators that had paused to watch the confrontation. Fiery blue eyes ricocheted around, compelling the curious and gawking to move along. Raking a now-shaking hand through his hair, he muttered, "Mother of—"

Suddenly, he whirled around, his thoughts catching up with him in that moment, his fear and concern for Holly and Jamie flooding out then. Going back to them, he guided them to the nearest bench, just beside the ticket booth. Sitting them down, he knelt in front of them, tenderly rubbing his son's back as the small boy clutched his stuffed animal and sobbed against her shirt. Muttering reassurances, he swept his assessing gaze over them, his jaw stiffening briefly.

"He didn't hurt you, did he?" he asked, flicking his eyes to Holly's face.

"No, he didn't touch him," she hastened to tell him, assuming his concern was all for Jamie. Lifting a shoulder, she gabbled on, "He just grabbed my arm. I was gonna run when I could, I swear."

Her eyes had gone wide, pleading for him to believe that she would have done so. She absolutely would have run, if she had managed to break Rumlow's hold on her, to get the boy out of there. She didn't want him to have been part of any of it, and she felt terribly that she hadn't done more. Carefully, Steve's other hand came up, patting her knee and then cupping her cheek again.

"You did fine, Holl," he said, thumb sweeping over the skin. For a long moment, she merely looked at him, barely dipping her chin in an uncertain nod. The wails against her shoulder did not peter off, she glanced down at Jamie, instinctively rocking a bit. Swiftly, the bigger fellow scooped up his son, holding him close as he stood and continued to cry.

"Kiddo. Hey, it's okay now," he crooned, patting and rubbing his back over and over. Within a few minutes, the sobs became whimpers and hiccups, and the little guy eventually lifted his head. Watery brown eyes looked to his father, and he took in fast, gulping breaths.

"Daddy, he, he...he killed Mommy?" he wondered, the question having been circling in his mind since Steve had pronounced Rumlow's ill deeds. The older man veritably paled when he realized that he'd been heard, and worse, understood, by his boy. Swallowing hard, he closed his eyes briefly.

"We'll, we'll talk about it later, alright?" he attempted to placate the child, a sullen nod given after a few seconds. Turning back to the bench, he looked beseechingly at the brunette woman still perched there. "Holly..."

Her head snapped up then, from the bow it had gone into. Shaken as she still was, she nodded absentmindedly, fidgeting with her phone that she'd drawn from her pocket.

"The police. We need to call them," she clarified, understanding enough of the situation that Steve would have to get in touch with the authorities. At once, he inclined his head, worrying his bottom lip with his teeth for a moment or two.

"The station's not far from here. And they'll probably want a statement from you, too," he mused, shifting Jamie to one arm and starting to dig in his own pocket. "I'll call ahead."

Shaking her head, Holly offered Steve her phone, standing again as he called the police station. After a short, tense conversation, he hung up and returned the device to her care. The shaken trio moved away from the carnival grounds, separating to their vehicles with Holly following behind Steve's SUV. Within minutes, they were at the station, passing through the heavy doors into the small reception area. A few clerks were at the front desks, one of them gesturing to the counters along the wall. A half-filled coffee pot sat on the burner, but neither of the adults indulged. Instead, they waited silently until one of the side doors opened. A man with sandy, close-cropped hair strode out, tugging a little at his uniform's collar and making his badge shift slightly on his chest. Spying them, he made his way over, attempting a fast smirk in hello.

"Officer Barton," Steve greeted the other man, holding his palm out for a handshake. Barton obliged, giving it a few pumps before dropping the grip.

"I wish I could say it's good to see you, Steve, but, well..." he trailed off, resting his hands on the belt and holster at his waist. Cocking an eyebrow, he stated, "Sounds like you've got some issues to clear up."

Steve snorted inelegantly, rising from his chair with Jamie in his arms once again (the little guy had sat on his lap at the station, and hadn't moved). For her part, Holly watched the exchange in silence. When Steve had given her the full account of Peggy's passing, she had learned of the officer who had been unfortunate enough to deliver the bad news to Steve. Officer Barton, a husband himself with three children, could not fully commiserate, but he had gone out of his way on his department's behalf to work with the distraught man and toddler left behind. They kept in touch, enough to merit Christmas cards, Steve had joked, but it was mentioned with a touch of sadness. At the present moment, it was just calm and business-like, and she hoped it would stay that way.

"That's putting it mildly," he retorted blandly. Glancing back at her, he nodded between his girl and the officer. "Holly, this is Clint Barton."

The brunette woman raised her hand, waving as she had no idea how to greet him. "Uh, hi."

Barton softened his smirk into a small grin, though it slipped away as he brought them all through the door and down the hall to his office. One by one, he asked for their statements, encouraging them to give as many details as possible, sliding the necessary documents across the desk to fill out. Several long minutes passed as the two adults wrote fast, mindful of the little one getting antsy on his father's lap. After they'd finished, Barton perused each swiftly, digging in his desk and removing an old tape recorder from within. Once he affirmed that the tape inside was fresh, he asked for them to give their testimonies aloud as well. Silently, Steve and Holly looked to one another, the young woman dipping her chin and agreeing to go first. When Holly recounted Rumlow grabbing her arm, locking her into place, she caught Steve grimacing in disgust out the corner of her eye. Still, she got through the retelling fairly well, and had her own disgust and grimaces to battle against when Jamie piped up. Clint Barton was patient with him, subtly encouraging him to continue or pause as needed before rewarding him with a sucker from a desk drawer.

"He's clearly violated the order, before multiple witnesses," Clint remarked after Jamie had contented himself with the treat, sympathy in his irises as he sighed. "I radioed out before you got here, put the units nearby on the look-out for Rumlow. Still, it's only a misdemeanor at this point, not a felony."

Steve's eyebrows rose sharply and he barely cut off a fast gasp.

"He got his hands on her, though!" he pointed out, jabbing a finger down at the transcribed testimonial. "He touched my girlfriend."

"Who doesn't have an order against him," Clint returned, stating the facts. He flashed a look to Holly then, shrugging apologetically. "That, however, can change if she seeks one, too."

Holly's dark gaze widened, and she felt another shiver run down her spine. She'd never had that sort of thing happen in her life, and had not presumed to think she would be in such a position. It boggled the mind, and she blinked rapidly as she tried to make her brain slow down.

"I..." she trailed off, arms curling around her stomach. As the distress rolled off of her, Steve shifted in his seat, coughing once.

"Clint, can we have a minute, please?" he asked, the other man nodding.

"Sure thing." Turning to Jamie, he rose from his seat and held out a hand. "Hey, buddy, want to help me do some radio calls?"

Blinking, the little boy slid from his father's lap, nearly skipping to Barton's side.

"Okay," he agreed, waving at Steve and Holly before he was led out of the room. For a minute or two after their exit, the man and woman left behind sat in the quiet, the distant chatter and phones ringing interrupted by the air conditioning rattling to life. In her mind, Holly's thoughts were whirling, considering what she would have to do, and soon enough, she turned to Steve, the pensive look on his face unmistakeable.

"Steve, I—" she began, only to be cut off by his hand raising his palm out in supplication.

"I understand. I mean, this is difficult enough for us to handle, and you didn't ask for this," he murmured, not quite able to look her in the eye as he spoke. Slightly nonplussed by his avoidance, she felt the sick slide of shock course through her as he continued, "It's, I know it's not easy, since Jamie and I are a package deal, but for Rumlow to show up now...if this is good-bye, I get it."

Holly's jaw slackened, dismay written all over her features as she comprehended what Steve had assumed.

"What?" she garbled, brow furrow as he blinked and scratched the back of his neck. "You thought I was gonna break up with you?"

His shoulders shrugged, his gaze fastening onto his shoes.

"Lots of people do, for less serious reasons," he replied, the bitter truth of the words. Holly shifted uncomfortably as she digested that she herself had been dumped in the past for some pretty trivial reasons, and no doubt Steve had been, too. She could see how he would think that something as heavy as creepy jerk trying to force his apologies onto him would be strange, but she would never have brought that against him. He began to pick at the outer hem of the jeans he was wearing, clearing his throat. "I, I just hope this hasn't ruined—"

"Nothing. It's ruined nothing, Steve," she stated bluntly, her turn to cut him off. He finally looked at her then, lines cutting across his forehead and his mouth opening silently. Pointedly, she reached over and took his hand in hers, threading their fingers together before squeezing. Meeting his gaze fully, she told him, "I'm not going to cut and bail on you because of some asshole who doesn't understand the word, 'no.'"

Steve blinked a little faster at that, deep breaths taken as he stared back at her.

"Are you sure?" he asked her after a few moments, his head tilting to one side before he dropped her gaze again. "I don't think you're getting much out of this deal."

Holly squeezed his hand once more, breathing deeply as she felt the answer beat through her. So many facets made up Steven Rogers, so many parts that came together in the whole, and while not all of them were pleasant, it still shaped who he was. And who he was, was someone Holly was proud to know, proud to be with.

"I'm getting you. Which is what I want," she announced, the depth of feeling in her voice unable to be ignored. Perhaps it was too soon to say certain things, to make certain gestures, but she was not about to let this opportunity go by without proclaiming what she wished, and understood. She had never expected a walk in the park when it came to him, and she wouldn't give up over something like what had happened. Lifting her chin, she continued to look at him, her voice strengthening. "So you've got a past. So what? You're not the only one who does. That doesn't make you less than any other man. I can handle this. Give me the chance to handle this."

The blond man could not answer her testament of loyalty and resolution verbally. Instead, he leaned forward, lips capturing hers in a hard, searing kiss. The emotion within had left them both breathless when they pulled apart, and brown eyes connected with blue again.

"Okay," he nearly whispered, placing his other hand atop hers. Satisfied with his acceptance, she listened as he exhaled quickly and flicked a glance at the closed door. "So what do you want to do?"

Letting out a low, slow sigh of relief, she managed a weak smirk.

"How do I go about getting a restraining order? Because no matter what happens, I definitely don't want Rumlow to get anywhere near me again."

Steve nodded, standing and drawing her up as well. "Let's go talk to Clint. We can the process started, at least."

And so they did, upon leaving the office and finding the older man teaching Jamie a few codes (the milder ones, thankfully; he claimed he didn't want him to know too early, like his own children did). It was another round of tedious paperwork, but Clint was confident he could have it to the courthouse in short order, and get it taken care of. Once she'd finished with it, Barton promised that a patrol would be outside their apartment building over the next few nights, in case Rumlow dared to try anything—if he managed to elude them that long, he'd muttered, shrugging a shoulder at them both. Farewells were exchanged, and soon enough they were all driving back to their building, cars parked and weary looks passing between the adults. Holly convened with the Rogers boys in their apartment, the residual heat of the day thrumming off of her as she sat at their table. Dinner, as it turned out, were bowls of ice cream that Steve had pulled from the back of the freezer. They all deserved a little something, he'd merely stated, and Jamie clapped his hands, his resilience making the two adults grin in wonderment. It was unlikely he had forgotten what his father had said about Rumlow, and he would probably bring it up again soon enough. However, in that moment, it was put aside in favor of vanilla scoops drowned in chocolate sauce, and for that, they could find no fault in doing the same.

Between the excitement of the day and the late arrival home, it was time for Jamie to go to bed an hour or two after finishing his bowl. Contrary to what may people believed, the sugary sweetness had not made the child hyper; the slow blinking and the sighs told of how tired he was. After gently coaxing him away from his toys to his bedroom, Steve paused as Jamie immediately went to Holly, hugging her tightly and saying how much fun he had with her. The brunette woman's eyes closed, and she hugged him back, grateful that he had taken that away from the day's experiences. She went about tidying up the table as Steve got his boy changed and into bed, the pair of them meeting in the kitchen as she loaded the last dish into the dishwasher.

Noting the time on the clock on the wall, she opened her mouth, ready to say she would let them get their rest, when Steve's blue gaze met hers.

"Holly," he breathed, hands resting at her waist and pulling her closer. A hard line cut across his brow as he thought, and she let her eyebrows incline curiously.

"Yeah?" she wondered, and she felt her breath hitch as he looked at her again, the deep well within his irises unfathomable then.

"Stay, please," he said, the simplicity and sincerity of his words reflected in his expression. They'd only been dating a few weeks, had even discussed what would be good to wait on doing until later on down the line. However, it was clear that propriety and plans were not going to dictate their actions that night. Scratching the back of his neck, he murmured, "You don't have to be alone tonight, and I, I want you to be here, and safe."

Holly took a moment to think, her fingers on his arms and tapping lightly. Soon enough, her dark gaze met his again, and she nodded.

"Just let me run down to my place, grab a few things," she said, raising herself up and kissing his cheek. "I'll be right back."

His touch trailed as she moved away, the heat of his gaze on her back felt as she went out of the apartment and down the hall. She didn't need much, since she would literally only be some feet away from her home, and so endeavored to only grab pajamas and her phone charger. Locking up, she braced her back against her front door, taking a few shaky breaths as she steadied her nerves. She definitely wanted to be with him, but even so, she did need to take a moment and adjust to all that had happened in the last eight hours. A few more breaths, and she was back at Steve's, with him locking the door securely behind her and leading her by the hand to his room. Lights were shut off along the way, the near-darkness touching them as they moved into the bedroom.

He gathered up his own things, promising her privacy to change as he ducked into the bathroom, any argument she could make dying on her tongue as he went. Slowly, she changed into her sleep shorts, an old t-shirt thrown around her frame. Sitting on the edge of his big bed, she heard the door handle click, looking up in time to see him come in. The white athletic tank and Nationals shorts had taken place of his other clothes, which he relegated to a hamper in his closet. Coming up to the other side of the bed, she spotted the high pink spots on his cheeks, and perversely felt a little pleased that she would not be alone in her awkwardness over the situation. Quickly, he climbed in, watching as she did the same. Good-nights were passed, each one flicking off the lamps on their sides, the room swathed in the night's light.

Holly laid on her side, facing Steve as her eyes slowly adjusted to the dark. He faced her as well, fingers twitching at the bedding for a few moments. Gently, he shifted, the slight dip of the mattress ignored as his arm slipped around her waist, drawing her closer. His body heat radiated off of him, the cool of the air conditioning keeping them from overheating under the covers. Her fingers reached under the covers, running along the bare skin of his arm, and she detected a shake coursing through him. The hand splayed along her side tightened minutely, and he got even closer, nearly sharing her pillow then. Her palm reached his broad shoulder, toying with the ripped sleeve of his athletic shirt, and she sighed.

"You didn't want to be alone tonight, either, did you?" she asked him, her voice hushed in the dark. Another shift, that time coming from his head, was noted, and he let out a slow breath.

"No," he whispered, turning onto his back and taking her with him. Guiding her head to rest on his chest, Holly felt Steve's fingers trail up to her hair, tenderly combing through it as his unsteady breaths evened out. The heartbeat beneath her ear became calmer the longer he held her, and as her own eyes drooped and closed, she thought that he'd steadied her heart, too.

* * *

 **A/N:**...Hey, guys.

It's been awhile on this one, huh? Sorry about that. DBD has been my priority, but I had not intended to go this long without updating this story. All I can do is apologize, and hope this chapter suffices as a peace offering.

Holly gets more a chance to be in the spotlight again, with this chapter more about her perspective and thoughts. And Rumlow makes his appearance as the drunk driver who can't understand that his apology is unwelcome. Also, kinda stalker-y, but Steve did put him in his place. Got to see where Clint enters into all of this as well. ;)

Maybe sleeping in the same bed after a few weeks is fast for some people, but I don't see the harm in seeking out comfort from someone you claim as you girlfriend/boyfriend in the night. Certainly not in this context.

I do intend the next chapter to be a little happier, and I will try to post much sooner!

I own nothing from the MCU, nor do I own any other pop culture references made in the text (Marvel comics, etc.).

Thanks for reading, please review, and I'll see you all for the next one!


	11. Chapter 11

It was only a matter of hours before Rumlow was picked up, his parole officer notified of his breach of the restraining order and a holding cell reserved for him by the morning. He would be scheduled for another court hearing in the future, off the street and easing both Steve and Holly's minds. For the time being, at least. Dwelling upon the future at that moment was not something either of them wished to do; it was enough for Rumlow to be out of the way and unable to touch either of them, or Jamie.

August melted into September, the change of the season imminent in the air as well as on the calendar. With those changes came one that hit a little close to home: Jamie Rogers was enrolled in preschool, one step closer to becoming 'a real big boy' in his own eyes. Steve, for his part, could not have been prouder of the little guy, the bittersweet pleasure of seeing his son take another step on the road of life coming off of him. On the first day, when the school bus came to pick him up (and with strong admonishments to remember to get on the bus again for the ride to daycare later), he at least had Holly there to hold his hand, saying good-bye and good luck to the boy as well.

With the month beginning to wind down, the couple was still making time to be with one another, though they were mindful of the slight alterations they had to make to their dates at times. For instance, on the third Saturday of the month, they had planned for a movie night that included Jamie. The three of them were to select their favorite Disney films, a marathon in order along with take-out for dinner. Holly found herself anticipating it with pleasure, like she did with any date she had with Steve. It was so easy, and right, to be with him, in whatever capacity, she found herself realizing, the fondness for him growing every day. Deciding that she wished to have a few moments of adult conversation with him (knowing that Jamie would likely be occupied with his toys for a little while), she grabbed up her choice for the afternoon, veritably skipping down the hall a little before eleven o'clock. Knocking, she couldn't help but grin when two voices hollered for her to come in, and she snickered to herself as she turned the handle.

"Hey," she greeted both man and child as she went inside, a little surprised that she wasn't leg-hugged the second she walked in. Jamie, it seemed, was as enthralled with his toys as ever, his Power Rangers taking on the ninja turtles on the other side of the patterned carpet. Detouring over to the dining table, she bent to kiss Steve, which he reciprocated with a slight grin. Noting the pensiveness there, she asked him, "What's wrong?"

"Well, it's nothing _wrong_ , per se," he murmured, setting his phone down on the table. Off her questioning glance, he blew out a breath and leaned back in his chair. "Um, sometimes Peggy's cousin Sharon comes to visit Jamie. I told you, right?"

Holly nodded; it was true, he had mentioned that happening once or twice in passing. Her job was a demanding one, and didn't often let her get away, but the other female Carter did try and get out to see the little guy when she could. Steve dipped his own chin, cupping a hand in the air.

"Helps to keep her family in touch. You know, because video chats and phone calls sometimes aren't enough," he explained, as he had the first time he'd told her. The brunette sat in the chair beside him, inclining her chin and digesting the information. Setting her chosen movie down, she examined the phone that lay on the table top as well.

"Okay. So, she called today, then," she stated. It wasn't a question, but she did look at him for an answer. His eyebrows rose a little at her supposition, and she shrugged. "That's what I'm assuming, since you brought her up."

"She's got a day off, so she would like to come in from Quantico to see him. I told her I'd get back to her after talking with you."

Rubbing at her forehead, Holly bit her lip, unable to keep disappointment from lighting her features. Well, there went their plans for the movie marathon and a simple afternoon in. However, she couldn't begrudge the Carter maternal roots reaching out for the little boy in the living room. Given how Steve himself had few blood relatives to draw on (a distant uncle who had moved to Ireland, and a grandfather who had disapproved of his mother's marriage to his father, thereby ignoring his existence entirely), it made sense that he would find a way to keep Peggy's family in the loop with Jamie as he grew. Especially since a good majority of them lived so far away in Hampstead, in England.

So if one of them, who was actually stateside, could get around to see him, how could she object to such a thing?

"I see," she replied, linking her hands in her lap. Quirking up a corner of her mouth, she tried to see the positive point in all of it. "It's sweet of her to want to do so."

The glance her boyfriend gave her was significant, and he raked a hand back through his blond strands.

"I don't know how sweet it is. I, I told Peggy's mom and dad about...how I'm seeing you now," he confessed, appearing to shrink back slightly in his seat, as if he believed he had done something wrong. Holly had to admit, she was a little surprised that he had done so; she didn't think he would be ready to tell the parents of his passed wife that he was dating anyone, much less her, before much later. However, the lack of convention in their relationship meant a few things would be altered. And, to be fair, her own parents knew about him by then. Likely, he viewed Mr. and Mrs. Carter as close stand-ins, at least to a point. When she said nothing, only stared at him, he hastily added, "It was during the last call-in they made to Jamie. I, I didn't mean to cross a line or something. I just, I kept mentioning your name when we chatted, and I had to say something." Shrugging, he frowned slightly as he considered aloud, "Can't help but think part of this visit is happening so someone on their side can scope you out."

Holly wrinkled her nose at that. "They thought subversion would be the best way to go here? If that's true, how can they think you wouldn't know?"

Steve just looked at her, the deadpan expression telling. "I'm pretty sure that's the point."

She sighed; she figured that was the case, but had maintained a brief hope otherwise.

"Gotcha." Inhaling deeply, she reached over and patted his hand. Flicking her gaze to the phone, she stated, "Well, you better call her back, get it all worked out. We can get things ready here in the time it takes for her to drive out."

Steve's bright blue gaze connected with hers, clearly surprised by her acquiescence. Not that he thought she would ream him out over a change in plans, but he knew how much they both liked to stick to their commitments. And they both were busy with work, and life…

"Are you sure?" he asked her, wishing to make his sentiments known. Gesturing at the device on the table, he iterated, "It can wait; we did make plans, and I don't want to break them just because of—"

She brought her palm up, gently passing it through the air as if to physically brush off the concerns.

"It'll be alright," she told him, the growing nerves in her gut overridden by her words. Letting her eyebrows incline, she posited, "Besides, it would be better to have a good report go in, right?"

He gave her a scoffing chuckle, despite nodding. Reaching over, she smoothed out a wrinkle in his t-shirt, reaching up next to set his hair to rights again.

"We'll make it work," she nearly whispered, sitting back when she was satisfied with his appearance. "Disney movies will always be there."

It took him a few seconds until he dipped his chin at her, strained smiles curving their mouths.

"Okay," he said, "only if you're sure."

"I'm sure." Once more, she patted his hand, fingers pulling away and combing through the loose waves of her hair in an effort to disguise the nervous tremor rising in them. "Alright, so we face the arbiter for your in-laws. Well, there is something we can do about it all." As he raised an eyebrow at her, she straightened in her seat, lifting her chin imperiously. "Meet it head-on, and not show fear."

He chuckled at that, hearing the truth beneath the statement. Smirking, he winked at her. "Smart."

"I like to think so," she retorted, grinning back at him. As she thought back on something else he said, the grin wavered, and her brow furrowed. "Wait, Quantico?"

Catching the implication in her tone, the sheepish cast to his face returned, and he couldn't help but incline his head.

"…Yeah," he confirmed, asserting that his passed wife's cousin lived where special agents and marines alike resided. Plus, there was more besides. "And she does training at the FBI Academy."

Holly actually groaned aloud at that, her head dropping down and thumping against the table. "Great. Even better."

It was one thing to be confronted with a branch of a family that a single parent partner kept in touch with, it was quite another to find out that they were trained to ferret out secrets and truths about a person. As the two adults rose up to inform Jamie about the slight deviation in their plans, Holly felt the first gnawing of regret at agreeing surface in her stomach, but she swallowed it down as best she could. Working together, they got the apartment tidied up, even as Jamie insisted on pulling out his bucket of Legos and connecting blocks, his father firmly telling him to pick another toy in the interim and nearly causing a temper tantrum.

Holly silently reckoned that Jamie's intransigence might have been fed by her discomfort, but she dismissed that thought. Once the breakfast dishes were tucked into the dishwasher and things were straightened up, she turned to go out, intent on swapping the comfortable sweatshirt and old jeans she'd been wearing for slightly less scruffy things. At once, Steve seized her arm, gently pulling her back into his arms as his son rolled his eyes and darted off to his bedroom for a few moments.

"You look good already, sweetheart," he told her, the genuine warmth in his tone informing her of the truth in the words. She exhaled slowly, closing her eyes as she shook her head. Not good enough for an agent, not good enough for the Carter examiner. Sensing the downward spiral of her thought, he tightened his hold on her, hands splaying along her back. "You don't have to change to please Sharon."

"It's not really her I'm gonna be appeasing, though, is it?" she responded sharply, unable to quell the anxiety in that moment. Catching the blink and flinch he gave at her tone, she squeezed her eyes shut. Pulling away and bracing her hands on her hips, she glanced at the floor. Under her breath, she mumbled, "Sorry."

Steve stepped back, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I should've asked her to stop by next week."

Another flutter, one of guilt, shot through her then. Yeah, the timing could have been better, and Steve could've insisted, but she had agreed, had conceded. She had to do so with better grace, she just had to, she chided herself.

"I'm sorry," she repeated, crossing her arms over her stomach. Dark brown eyes rose to meet his gaze, unable to hide the nerves and the guilelessness in them. "I, I just don't want this to go badly."

If it was true, and Sharon would be there to scope her out along with visiting the little guy (who was chanting about seeing 'Cousin Share' on and off since being told she was coming), she wanted to hold up to the scrutiny. She didn't want to come across badly, and she didn't want any poor impression reflecting upon Steve. Further alienation was not something she wanted on her conscience.

The man before her sighed, reaching out and linking their fingers together to comfort her.

"I don't think it will. Trust me?"

Looking up at him, at the easy adoration in his eyes and the light curve at the corner of his mouth, she felt her reticence give way. The crinkle on his brow and the sporadic tightening of his jaw told her that he wasn't blindly wishing for the best; he understood all too well, even better than her, what the visit could bring and imply. Still, he wasn't asking for her to go away for the afternoon, and wasn't forcing her to be on her best behavior. He trusted that Holly, as herself, would more than pass muster, and he wanted her to believe it, too. Slowly, she nodded, stepping away from the door and hold her for another long moment.

As the minutes ticked by, the Rogers boys and Holly could not stand to wait inside, all of them taking up jackets and heading down to the climbing frames. Jamie immediately flew at them, his excess energy taken out on the slide and attempting to swing from monkey bar to monkey bar. On and off, Holly or Steve were drafted into sliding or venturing around the platforms, the pair of them keeping a steady eye on the parking lot for any arrivals. Before too long, a nice sports car rolled into one of the open spots, Steve's phone buzzing with the message that Sharon had finally arrived.

The now-infamous cousin opened the car door and got out, and Holly felt herself shrink inwardly. Sharon Carter looked as though she had stepped off the page of a Burberry advertisement: golden curls framing a soft face, keen brown eyes taking it all in as she adjusted the checked jacket she was wearing. Even from that distance, she could feel the focus zoom in on her, and the brunette had to force herself not to fidget even harder than she already was. One hand managed to slink up and curl around the cuff of her jacket, while the other was squeezed in Steve's. Jamie tore away from his father's side, eagerly opening his arms wide to the new arrival. The scrutiny of Sharon's gaze fell away, a smile creasing her lips as she crouched low and scooped up the bow when he got near enough. Another squeeze of her hand, and her gaze was drawn back onto her boyfriend, the little encouraging grin he shot her allowing her to keep pace with him as they moved over to the blond woman.

Spotting their approach, Sharon lowered Jamie back onto his feet, smirking at the taller man. "Hey, Stevie."

A low breath shot out of Steve's nose, even as Holly clamped a hand over her hand to cut off the giggles. It definitely was not a favorite nickname of his, but he put up with it, from friends and in-laws, it seemed.

"Hi, Sharon," he greeted her, letting go of Holly's hand and stepping forward. Slinging his arm around Sharon's shoulders, he gave her a fast hug, his grin turning more genuine when he released her. "How are you doing?"

"Good, really good," she replied, dipping her chin in confirmation. Attention dropped back onto the little guy at her side, and she asked him, "And how are you doing, Jamie?"

"'M fine, Cousin Share," the little boy crooned, giving her a toothy grin as she beamed at him and knelt down to hug him again.

"Well, I'm glad." Releasing him from the hug, she glanced up then, her warm gaze narrowing slightly as she focused on Holly. Pointedly, she stood and extended her hand out to the other woman, maintaining the pleasant expression on her face. "Hi, don't believe we've met yet."

Holding out his hand to his girlfriend, Steve smiled shyly and introduced, "Sharon, this is Holly."

The younger brunette came forward then, maintaining her nervous smile and putting her hand in Sharon's. "Nice to meet you."

"Yeah, you, too," the blond woman murmured, a glimmer darting over her irises as she shook her hand. Dropping the grip after a few seconds, she let her eyes scan over Holly, and Sharon's smirk widened a bit. "Good to put a name to the face."

Letting out one of her giggles, Holly tucked a strand of her loose hair behind her ear. "Oh, yeah?"

"Yep." Hooking a thumb at Steve, the other woman proclaimed, "This guy couldn't shut up about you before you decided to take pity on him and go out with him."

Red flooded into Steve's cheeks and he set his jaw a little, while Holly' s face began to burn a bit. Had everybody known what was going before them, she wondered? (According to Darcy, the answer was a big, fat yes, when she was asked several weeks back, and endured having a wad of paper thrown at her head with better cheer than most.)

"It wasn't that bad," he mumbled, looking all of fourteen years old and like he was being teased for passing notes in class. For a brief moment, Holly and Sharon shared a fast, amused look, and then the blonde woman shook her head, leaving off poking fun at Steve briefly.

"Either way, it's good to meet you," she affirmed, bending at the waist slightly and taking Jamie's hand in hers. As they walked back toward the climbing frames, she implored the little guy, "Now, tell me all about preschool, kiddo."

Now past the initial inspection, Holly took a shaky breath, a weak smile given to Steve when he glanced at her. The red in his face was fading as they followed behind the other two, and his hand seized hers again. The three adults spent the better portion of an hour outside, the faint chill of the day not enough to deter them from playing and horsing around with the young boy. In between acting like monsters attacking a village or pirates (Jamie's current favorites for make-believe), Sharon chattered on and off, confessing about certain aspects of her job that were going well—she was on track for a promotion within the office, hopefully to become supervisor for a unit of trainers within a few months—and about areas of her life that weren't up to par (a couple of bad Tinder dates had led her to contemplating getting a dog and taking a sabbatical from trying for a long while). While initially reserved, Holly found herself adding her own stories into the mix, with the new logos Steve had drummed up making a splash with the higher-ups in the company and giving them both a good amount of credit. When she dared to expound on a tale her brother had relayed to her from back home involving his daughter and helping her sand up a car for a pinewood derby her school was having, she caught Sharon eyeing her appraisingly. Any comment she could have made about it was locked down as they went indoors, up to the apartment to grab some lunch and listen as Jamie talked about his latest exploits with Cassie.

Steve had, instead of ordering pizza, had pulled out ingredients for a stir-fry, the quick and simple meal enough for all of them. Sharon and Jamie went into the living room to play, leaving Holly to help pull together the meal. From the breakfast bar pass-through and the archway out, she caught glimpses of the woman with the boy, the wideness of her smile crinkling her eyes at the corners. Recalling one of the few pictures she had seen of Peggy, the family resemblance was clear in those moments. Though the anxiety had lessened, she still felt a flutter in her gut as she helped set the table, grinning when Jamie sprang up and begged to help. And those eyes, Carter's eyes, flicked to her every so often when they all sat down to indulge, soft music playing over Steve's laptop as it was set on the breakfast bar. She was watching, too watching as Holly teased Jamie, encouraging him to eat up and telling him about how all the veggies mixed in with the chicken would actually help him grow up big and strong like his dad.

Once the meal was finished and the dishes soaked in the sink, Steve's phone rattled on the table, an incoming call from his boss breaking up the conversation about the new Power Rangers versus the old (something Holly and Sharon were actively debating with the nearly five-year-old). Rolling his eyes and grunting, Steve excused himself, palming his phone to take into the bedroom to talk. Impulsively, Holly pecked him on the cheek, the happiness in his eyes floating up as he walked away and shut the door behind him. Turning back, she caught Sharon averting her gaze, the twist to her own smile slightly bitter. Inwardly chastising herself, Holly gestured to the living room, suggesting that they should watch an episode of the new Rangers, so the women could get a better feel for the changes made. Eagerly, Jamie rocketed into the room, perching on the couch between Holly and Sharon.

"It's really nice of you to come by and check up on him," Holly dared to say, her voice lowered so as not to draw Jamie's attention off the television show as it blared to life. Sharon let the corner of her mouth curl, but the glimmer in her irises lessened a bit. Thinking she might have been saddened a bit, Holly hastened to make her feel better. "I can imagine your family is happy to hear about how Jamie's doing from you, too."

"Yeah," Sharon murmured, leaning back against the couch cushion. Risking a sideways glance, she muttered, "It's not fun when they're prompting you to do so for other purposes, though."

The sick slide in her gut pinched her as it went down, and Holly's eyebrows shot up. Blinking hard, she let out a chuckle, taken aback by the bluntness.

"Wow, I wasn't—"

The blonde woman arched a brow at her, her own grin weak but remaining on her lips.

"Expecting the honesty? Believe me, I have to put up with double-dealing and such on a daily basis. Doing it on my off-time is just too much." Sighing, she passed a hand over her face, sincerity in her tone as she continued explaining herself. "I'll level with you, Holly: the family wants to know about what kind of woman you are, how you are around..." She trailed off, nodding discreetly at the boy between them. Jamie's interest remained on the television, but even so, she purposefully lowered her voice further. "They want to make sure you'll be good to him. The kid deserves that much, at least."

The brunette found herself nodding, her fingers picking at the outer hems of her jeans. "I figured as much. I hoped that they wouldn't go this route, but, well..."

They shared another look at the unsaid, and they both exhaled softly.

"Yeah. Look, me personally, I have nothing against you," Sharon told her, biting her lip briefly. Meeting Holly's eye-line once more, she confessed, "I, I wanted to, before, but...I can't now."

The other woman blanched a little, but she still inclined her head, understanding where she was coming from. Peggy was her family, and to see her cousin's husband moving on after her death would be a tough pill for anyone to swallow. Particularly as Peggy had seemed to be a strong, well-liked woman. Before she could say anything in response, Sharon opened her mouth again, her voice strong despite being hushed.

"You seem to genuinely care for him, care for both of these boys, and I can't find fault in that. She wouldn't, either." A knowing glance told Holly exactly who _she_ was, but elaboration was not necessary. Sharon tugged on the end of one of her curls, tucking it back after a moment. "Still, this situation isn't going to be easy. We Carters don't react well to strangers encroaching on our territory, and unfortunately, for the moment, you are one. At least, on the surface."

The younger woman flicked her gaze to the television before unconsciously straightening up and returning the frank look directed at her. "Is that something I can change? Or is it a lost cause, even at this point?"

Sharon lifted a shoulder, cupping a hand in the air.

"Sorry, but all I can say is time will tell." And it would. She knew her side of the family—the American Carters, as it were—would likely soften and come around to the idea soon enough, but Peggy's parents were another matter altogether. Loyalty and honor would not make them yield fast, and she knew that. Reaching out, she patted Holly's shoulder, her expression friendly. "But, like I said, I don't have any issues with you. You're good, from what I can tell. Good for both of them."

Sitting back again, she crossed her arms over her chest, nodding decisively.

"And that's what I'll tell them when I get summoned for my report."

Blinking once more, Holly couldn't help but snort at that. "Sounds more like a spy network than a family."

"Maybe it is, a little," the blonde woman conceded, shooting her a significant glance. "Still, what family doesn't scope out potentials?"

Unable to argue with that, Holly leaned back into her cushion as well. "Touché."

Unbeknownst to them, Steve was waiting just out of sight in the hall, taking in a deep breath. The call with Tony had ended more quickly than he had anticipated, and as he came out of the room, he heard the shouts and grunts of fighting people, the television blaring. But, more than that, he heard the lowered tones beneath it; the two women in his home were in close-headed discussion. Listening as carefully as possible, he caught how Sharon tacitly giving his girlfriend approval, accepting the change gracefully where others likely would not. That was something he liked about Peggy's cousin; she was able to come to understand even her worst enemies over time, and could roll with the changes better than most.

However, they had since stopped discussing anything beyond the fighting Rangers on the show, and he decided it would be better to make his presence known then. Striding into the room, he grunted about how Tony was still unaware of Saturdays being Saturdays, prompting Holly to pat his knee in sympathy and smirk up at him. Sharon, for her part, muttered about how at least his boss was less likely to show up at his doorstep while he was in the midst of some well-earned nookie, and Holly could not cover her shocked laughter.

The afternoon began to wind down, and with it came the realization that Sharon had to be on her way. She had a few new recruit files to go over before heading back to work on Monday, and that was best done at home. Jamie pouted a bit, scuffing his toe against the floor as she got up to make her farewells, but with a couple tickles and a bear hug, Sharon managed to coax a grin out of him.

"I'll drop by again soon. Promise," she told the little guy, ruffling his hair and grinning. Straightening, she faced the man and woman coming forward to say good-bye, and she gave Steve a fast hug. Flicking her eyes over to where Holly stood, she admonished, "Steve, you better take care of this young lady, y'hear?"

Steve rolled his eyes in good nature, sincerity in his voice as he replied, "I will, Sharon."

Narrowing her gaze on him, she looked to Holly once again, an almost conspiratorial air hovering between them.

"If he's ever an ass, let me know," the blonde woman told her, winking discreetly. "We'll straighten him out."

Holly gave a giggle, extending her hand and clasping the other woman's hand. "Will do, Sharon. Have a safe drive home."

After a few shakes, Sharon dropped her grip, waving good-bye as she stepped out of the door. With the thunk of the wood latching shut behind her, and the retreat of her footsteps down the hall, Steve and Holly let out a simultaneous sigh in relief. Jamie let out a soft breath of his own, mumbling about going to his room to get another one of his toys.

"That went well, I think," Holly murmured, daring to let the bubble of hope in her chest rise. With Sharon on their side, it would pave the way for the remainder of the Carters to accept the changes a new person in Jamie's life could bring...and in Steve's, too. For his part, the man beside her let his grin grow, and he strode right up to her.

"More than that. Holl, you, you..." he trailed off, blue eyes focusing intently on her. Meeting that focus, she raised her eyebrows at him.

"Yeah?"

Unable to drum up the words, Steve's hands cupped at her face, pulling her closer so that he could kiss her. The fast, firm meeting of their lips left her breathless, her fingers curling into his shirt and her knees weakening a fraction. Those were the kinds of kisses she really adored from him; the adoration became too much, and all he could do was show her how much he appreciated her, how much he...cared for her. And it allowed her to reciprocate, tell him the same without words passing.

Bracing his forehead against hers, he let out a low chuckle when they broke apart. "Sorry, couldn't help myself."

"Don't need to apologize for anything, trust me," she rejoined, arms looping around his neck and low hum of contentment in her throat. Pleased with the progress of the day, with the promise of the future, Steve tilted his head a bit, ready to kiss her again, when a disgusted groan and hissing came from the hallway.

"Eww!" Jamie cried, having covered his face by the time his father and Holly looked over at him. Holly covered her mouth with her hand, smothering her laughter, while Steve glanced heavenward.

"I forgot; kissing, gross," he said, reminding them all of the young boy's perception of affection between adults. Slyly, the brunette in his arms glanced at him out the corner of her eye, sidling carefully out his grip.

"Maybe it's just because he wants a kiss, too," she crooned, bending a bit at the waist. Her hands came up, fingers spreading out and hooking in his direction in a clawlike motion. The boy's dark eyes widened, and he back up a step or two.

"Eww, no!" Jamie yelled, half-horror and half-amusement lighting his features as she stalked closer to him. When she got close enough, she reached out, and he shrieked, jumping back and running away. Laughter streamed behind him as Holly gave chase pursuing him up and down the hall. Steve let out guffaws of his own as he waited at the other end of the hall, swooping in and capturing the child before he could get away.

"Pucker up, Jamie!" he teased, hoisting the boy up and giving him mock-smacking kissed all over his face. Jamie's laughter grew in pitch, and Holly wrapped her arms around them both, smiling withal at the squirming child and the man she was now even more connected to than before.

* * *

 **A/N:** I left you guys hanging with the drama of the last chapter a bit too long. I'm sorry; I'd intended to be better about updating this story once DBD was finished. You see how well that worked out. I just needed a few days after finishing it to recuperate and take a break, and I do mean to be better about posting her for the new year.

So we meet Sharon in this universe, as Peggy's cousin. And I did not make her into a jealous, harpy-like creature. It's a route plenty are tempted to take, but I don't feel like causing that drama with her this time around. We already have the unrequited love angle with Nat; it's not going to be a thing with someone else. Instead, she represents the Carters and their inevitable interest in Steve resuming dating three years after his wife's death, and Holly being under a slight microscope. I think she held up well, despite the insecurities.

Next chapter, I hope to touch on a certain little boy's birthday, and other things besides. :) I also wrote a one-shot that takes place in the _Of Time_ universe, called _A New Creation_. Please check it out, if you feel so inclined.

Happy holidays to all those who celebrate! I was determined to get this out before Christmas, and I was glad to make it. Hope you all have a good holiday season.

I own nothing from the MCU, nor do I own any other pop culture references made in the text (Marvel comics, Power Rangers, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, etc.).

Thanks for reading, please review, and I'll see you all for the next one!


	12. Chapter 12

September eventually came to an end, and autumn in Washington, D.C. was fully established. It wasn't entirely something Holly Martin was quite used to yet in Minnesota, it would have been cooler than it was, particularly as October slid by and nearly morphed into November. However, there was still an event or two to celebrate before the eleventh month could make its appearance.

"You ready for your birthday, bud?" Holly asked Jamie when she went over to help set up the little guy's party. He'd had the good fortune to have it fall on a weekend that year, and with his dad insisting on hosting a big party for him and his friends, he was a doubly blessed boy. His smile had not wavered in the time it took Holly to come in and start bagging party favors for the children when they came, and his happiness was infectious. Letting her eyebrows rise, she also wondered, "You ready to get double the sugar, since it's Halloween, too?"

"Yeah!" he cried, leaping up and down then.

"Yeah," Steve grunted as well, shooting her a faux-exasperated look as he pinned a birthday banner up over the breakfast bar. "Thanks for reminding me about that."

"You're welcome, hon," she riposted, a cheeky grin directed over her shoulder at him. He snorted audibly, turning his head to hide his own grin. Jamie attaining a sugar high definitely wasn't on his list of things he desperately wanted to have happen, but given the holiday, it would be inevitable. Better to just accept it and move on...after a few moments of grumbling. Holly finished with the party favors, finding and dumping some of the party candy into the black cauldron on the table. She shook her head and turned her attention back to the little boy beside her. "So, tell me again, what are you going to be this year?"

"A pirate," Jamie replied, blond hair shifting as he hopped from foot to foot in excitement. She had remembered, but she knew how much he liked to talk about the costume he had assembled with his dad, and she wouldn't deny him the joy of talking about it again. "I got a hook and everything."

She let out a low whistle, looking dutifully impressed. "That will be awesome to see, one you get it all on."

Once he was reminded, Jamie immediately ran to his bedroom, insisting that he must get dressed in his costume right that moment. Steve admonished him to walk to his room, and not slam the door behind him, both directives ignored with alacrity. Shaking his head and sighing, he finished with the banner and began to spread out the treats he had accrued for both the children and the adults coming over. Holly continued with pouring out the candy before moving onto placing fake webs in the corners, a couple of pumpkin decorations lining the entertainment system in the living room.

"Birthday party in the afternoon, trick-or-treating after dark," the older man ticked off the day's events out loud, letting out a low groan as he tipped his head back. "I'll be ready for a long nap after that."

Finishing with adjusting one of the pumpkins, Holly wandered back to the dining area, stretching up on her toes to peck his cheek in commiseration.

"I might be, too. I'm heading over to Darcy's later, and trust me, she's not any calmer than a five-year-old when she wants to cut loose."

Nodding, he glanced down at her, shrugging a shoulder. "What time will that be at? Because I could, I could maybe..."

She let out a low sigh and grinned slightly before canting her head in a denial. He could try to find someone to watch Jamie, but it wasn't something she wanted him to trouble with.

"It's okay. I'm only going to be there for an hour or two," she told him honestly. A curious look laced his features, and she flapped a hand in the air before sitting at the table and taking up the bag of balloons to inflate. "Darcy's thing is, well, more of a pre-game sort of deal. Bar-hopping is on the agenda, and I'm really not super into that, but I promised I'd stop by for a bit."

Steve snickered before spiking an eyebrow and sitting down beside her.

"Seemed into bar-hopping a few months ago."

She snorted audibly at that, the memory of the night out with Darcy rushing back to her then. "Once every few months is quite enough for me. Wasn't the biggest partier in college, and definitely not one now."

"Okay," he chuckled, holding out a hand and accepting a few balloons to blow up as well. Stretching one out, he lifted a shoulder and gave her a lopsided grin. "But if you do want to stay out, that is fine. I promise. Just try not to do anything too crazy; I don't have bail money saved up for ya if you get caught."

She said nothing to that, merely smirked and rose out of her chair to give him another kiss on the cheek. In short order, they got the apartment ready, Jamie romping around the place in his striped shirt and bandana well before the first guests arrived. A handful of boys and girls from both his preschool and daycare had come along, superheroes, princesses, and various animals among the lot of them. Cassie Lang came with her father, the young girl dressed up as a ninja in blue (and whacking anyone who questioned her femininity with her plastic katana when she was questioned about her choice) and running to her friend immediately. The parents mingled with the few of Steve's friends who were invited along, Sam Wilson and Bucky Barnes alike turning up at the door. The latter sported his new, cybernetic prosthetic arm, which drew the fascination of all the kids for a good fifteen minutes. The few unattached mothers mixing in and out kept glancing at him, attempting to catch his eye on occasion, but he let his focus remain on his boy, Holly's hand in his or his arm around her waist to subtly dissuade them from making advances. By the time the cake was served—which, in reality, were a bunch of cupcakes frosted and grouped together to look like a pirate hook—he was enthralled with his boy's growth. Another year gone, and he could barely believe it as the birthday song was sung and the candles blown out.

"Five years old," he murmured under his breath, watching as his boy passed Cassie Lang one of the cupcakes and laughed when frosting got on her nose. Wistfulness flooded him, as it ever did when his son hit a milestone of life. Leaning a shoulder against the wall, he let out a slow breath. "You're getting so big, bud."

"He definitely is," a familiar voice crooned, Steve startled by it. Shaken out of his reverie, he looked down in surprise to see an old friend there. More specifically, an old friend who had been avoiding him for the better part of three months.

Inhaling deeply, he disguised his shaken nerves with a half-smile. "Hey, Natasha."

"Hey," she greeted him, no malice or sadness in her ocean-colored eyes. Flicking her gaze to the side, she lifted a shoulder at him. "Someone reminded of what day it was, had to come on over."

Following her gaze, he found Holly at the end of it, the brunette woman across the room handing a cup of punch to Scott and snickering at something he was saying.

"Yeah?" he queried, shifting in his stance. His girlfriend had been responsible for setting up the social media event page and invites for the party, so it wasn't shocking that Natasha would have been included. However, he had not expected her to reach back, or make an appearance that day. Not after everything that went down. The redhead placed the gift bag she'd brought with on the floor, crossing her arms over her chest and continuing to smirk at him.

"Yeah. I'm doing okay, by the way," she told him, catching him blinking and let out a low hum under her breath. "I know you've wanted to ask."

Steve shrugged a shoulder, scratching awkwardly at the back of his neck. "Wasn't sure if I would be overstepping if I did."

"No," she assured him, shaking her head. The smooth veneer of her face cracked the tiniest bit, allowing the discomfort she felt through. Letting out a soft sigh, she confessed, "It's been...it's been hard, but...your life, my friend."

It was concession, and a hard one to make, he knew, but he was grateful that she was not bearing either him or Holly any grudges. It was something she could easily do, and maintain for awhile, if she wished.

"We are friends," he stated, though the last word held a note of question. Despite not returning her amorous feelings, he hadn't stopped caring for Natasha as a person in her own right. They'd grown up together, played and fought and survived the public school system together. It wasn't all gone, not for him, but perhaps she did not feel the same way.

The smile she gave him was a tad wistful, and she inclined her chin.

"Never stopped." That was true. Though she'd spent the weeks after the gentle rejection from him keeping herself at arm's length, she was not about to lose his friendship. There was too much there to allow it to be lost in such a fashion, and she was far too stubborn to let a lack of romantic connection to destroy it. Certainly, she had to recover, had to find a way to look at him and not want more, and while she hadn't fully succeeded, she had progressed enough so that she could attend her nominal nephew's party, and at Holly's repeated request, too. Risking another glance over at the younger woman, she took the measure of her and tilted her head. To Steve, she muttered, "She's not a bad person. Just...very lucky."

There was nothing he could truly say to that, and so he dipped his chin, affording her a small smile. Natasha returned it briefly, patting his arm one last time before crossing over to the little boy in question. Jamie cheered upon seeing his Auntie Nat, nearly leaping into her arms when she opened them for a hug. He had missed her, that much was clear, and Steve found himself hoping that his boy wouldn't have to go so long without seeing her again. He hoped that he himself wouldn't have to. It was difficult, not having his chosen family around. Blue eyes flicked over to Holly again, catching the small, pleased grin she was directing at Nat and Jamie as the child began to chatter to the redhead, and she turned back to dishing out the cupcakes. Squaring his shoulders, he went over to her, slipping his hand around her waist and squeezing once, offering her a smile when she looked up at him.

Once Jamie had released Natasha from his hold, the older woman found her way into the living room, a few of the adults having chosen to take up spots on the couch while _Hocus Pocus_ played on the television. Sam Wilson gave her a hug before she sat, excusing himself to grab a drink of his own (and escape the single mother with cat-eye glasses and freckles who had been eyeing him up for the last hour). Taking his vacated seat, she glanced over at the other occupant of the couch.

"So you made it down after all, Mister Cyborg," she dared to tease him, smirking as Bucky rolled his eyes and chuckled. The brunet man chuckled and shook his head, sipping from a can of soda he'd lifted from Steve's stash at the back of the fridge.

"Had another check-in scheduled with Cho and some of the researchers yesterday, decided to stick around," he told her, rotating the wrist of the new arm and grinning softly. The light whir and click of the mechanics within met their ears, and Natasha shifted closer to him, her attention rapt upon it. Shined, metal plates interlocked, covering the wires and other pieces within. The remainder of it was hidden from sight under his sleeve, his shoulder twitching slightly when she ran her eyes over it.

"Arm looks good," she stated, scooting a bit closer. It was an exquisite piece of work; she was pleased that Stark's side project was so sound. That, and her old friend was one of the select few able to benefit from it. Gently, she reached out, her palm resting atop his forearm. The coolness of the plates made her blink, and she looked up at him again. "How does it feel?"

Bucky's cheeky grin had lessened somewhat, contemplation overtaking his features.

"Feels...weird. It can sense things up here." He tapped his temple for effect with his flesh fingers, shrugging when Natasha blinked at him. It was true, however. The doctors and engineers had tried to explain it all to him and the other applicants receiving the six prototypes, and had even brought in an overseas engineer to break down the process. Part of him was far too excited about having a left arm again to really pay close attention, but he did remember them describing wiring and sensors placed beneath his skin, connecting to the nerves at the shoulder and sending messages to his brain like a real arm and fingers would. Curling his metal fist once more, he continued, "Not quite the same as touch for this one, but I can sort of feel."

Again, he raised his flesh hand, but the redheaded beauty beside him paid it no mind. Instead, she let her finger trail down to his wrist, turning over his plated hand and tapping gently at the center of his palm.

"You can feel this?" she asked, her voice low and breathy. A spike registered in his veins, his stomach fluttering a bit, but he merely swallowed and dipped his chin.

"Yep."

Risking another glance up at him, Natasha really looked at her old friend. Same dark hair, same bright eyes, but the haunted quality within had lessened. She'd remembered him as a child, as one of the few boys she could tolerate growing up with. The lanky, rough teen from Brooklyn had gone to war, gone to Hell, and returned a grown man. She recalled the reclusive, morose figure he'd turned into for the year or two after being discharged, and the slow emergence from his shell. She'd always thought it was a shame that the war had taken so much, and refused to let life give him anything in return. With the trial, his luck was really changing. He was allowed to grow again, to become more, and in that moment, she hoped to be there to see it happen.

As she was lost in her thoughts, her fingers had curled around his palm, the absentminded rub of his plated thumb over her skin barely registering before she focused on him again. She slipped her hand away then, the tingle left behind confusing her as much as it comforted her.

Meeting his eye-line fully again, she let the corner of her mouth curl up. "Sometimes, I forget how brave you really are, Buck."

He smirked ruefully at that, casting his cornflower blue gaze to his knees and shaking his head. "Just a show, I think."

"No, it's not," she countered, her tone brooking no argument. Unbeknownst to them, the pair sported twin spots of pink in their cheeks, though hers had the advantage of being hidden behind applied blush. Clearing her throat, she tipped her head in the direction Wilson had gone. "You staying at Sam's?"

Bucky shifted in his seat, clearing his throat audibly as he sat up a little straighter.

"Yeah. He's intent on hosting a scary movie marathon with his girl, invited me to stay in for it, too." Shifting his gaze back onto her, he shrugged a shoulder and asked, "Feel up for it?"

Natasha's smile was slow, but it hadn't lost any of its brilliance in the months since they'd seen each other. "Only if you don't mind me burying my face in a pillow."

He rolled his eyes and snorted audibly at that, crossing his arms over his chest (her ocean-colored gaze following the movement).

"Please. You'll be mocking them for the poor visuals and gratuitous gore," he returned, and she chuckled aloud at that. Cupping a hand in the air, he dared to lean a bit closer, almost conspiratorially. "But if you're really scared, I'll be there."

His proximity was noted, as well as the fall of his dark hair around his face and the frame of his lashes, and suddenly Natasha's throat felt dry.

"Noted," she replied, leaning back and maintaining her veneer from before. However, the cornflower blue gaze focused on her did not waver, a dark eyebrow spiking as he silently called her out. She raised a brow in return, and Bucky could only chuckle as Sam finally returned, having shaken his admirer for the time being.

After presents had been opened and one last party game was played, everyone slowly began to filter out of Steve's apartments, the aunt and uncles the last to leave. Promising to catch up with him soon, Natasha actually gave Steve a hug farewell, even going to so far as to smile kindly at Holly before stepping back. Both man and woman blinked in surprise, but as Sam preceded her out the door, they caught the pleased expression on Bucky's face as he followed her, his hand going to the small of the redhead back as they left. The door swung shut behind them, and Steve and Holly shared a long look.

"Think...?" the brunette woman began to imply, nodding to where the others had gone. Steve looped an arm around her shoulders, letting out a careful sigh.

"Maybe," he returned, the undercurrent left in Bucky and Natasha's wake something he couldn't ignore. He'd grown up with both of them, had seen how they often flirted harmlessly with each other and were a force to be reckoned with at school. In their adult lives, even though it took them miles from each other, they had stayed in touch, the tenor of their talks and glances something that had made him wonder for a long time about them. It was why he was thrown when Nat had inadvertently confessed her crush on him; in truth, he had always suspected that Bucky would be her choice. Perhaps now, he would be. "Could work out."

"Here's hoping," his girlfriend muttered, raising a hand with her forefinger and middle finger crossed, the expression on her face telling. Snickering softy, he turned them both bodily away from the door, intent on getting Jamie to help them clean up and get ready for trick-or-treating once the sun started to set.

 **xXxXxXx**

Holly glanced down at the clock on her phone, letting out a slow breath. As she had promised both Steve and herself, she had not spent more than a couple hours at Darcy's after helping clean up the party. When she hugged the birthday boy good-bye and had given his father a kiss, she been quick about getting something without sugar in her for dinner before heading over. The apartment the bespectacled brunette lived in was actually a townhouse, the rent split between her and another young woman named Jane. It was bit more residential than one would've assumed Darcy would live in, but she seemed pleased with the set-up.

The other brunette had a small gathering at the townhouse, her Undead Pixie look complete with fake blood and black markings on her skin to go with the glitter and leotard. Her roommate—a physics professor at one of the universities—had chosen to do a couples costume with her boyfriend, a fellow taller and blonder than Steve. The pair of them were sweet together, even dressed up like convicts. As it turned out, he too was a professor at the same university, though his area of expertise was Norse mythology and lore. (It was at odds with his appearance, though he claimed it was in step with his ancestry, the accented tones rolling off his tongue as he spoke.) Making a mental note to pick his brain sometime in the future, Holly relaxed in the chignon she'd purchased, limiting herself to two drinks as the chatter and music swirled around her. When the call to rally and prepare to leave came, she bid her farewells, making Darcy promise to pass on her hellos to Pietro the pair of them were still having little dates here and there, though they hadn't labeled the relationship at all yet. Darcy pleaded for her to come with, but she denied her with a sly smile and quirking brows. Sensing something was about to embarked upon, the other brunette let her go, but not before pointing at her and making her swear to tell her the details before work on Monday.

It was easy request to accede to, though she did make a mental note to keep some of the story to herself. After all, if it crashed and burned, she did not want her friend to be privy to her total humiliation.

Naturally, she waited until after she knew Steve had put Jamie to bed, and then an additional twenty minutes to ensure the boy would definitely be asleep. What she would attempt, she did not want to scar the little guy with at his age. Her fingers combed through her hair, the dark waves fanning around her shoulders as she swapped costumes, a loaned coat fetched from where she'd hidden it in her closet. Lacing up the heeled sandals and tying the belt of the coat tightly, she squared her shoulders, prepared to enact her plan. Her phone was slipped into one pocket, her keys in the other, and then she left her apartment for the night, locking up behind her as she went. Toying with ring of keys, she withdrew them once she walked down the hall to Steve's door, a spare one for it slipping into the lock. They'd long ago exchanged the keys, during their close-coinciding bouts with the flu, and it served her well in that moment. The click of her heels seemed to reverberate as she stepped inside, the wooden floorboards underneath giving her away as she locked his door and moved through the darkened space. The only lights on in the apartment were the small light above the stove in the kitchen, and the gleam of lamplight pouring out of the crack of Steve's bedroom door. Inhaling deeply, she stepped in that direction, keeping her tread as light as possible as she moved. A sigh of relief flooded through her when she passed Jamie's door, not a peep to be heard from him. Upon reaching Steve's door, she crept inside the bedroom, closing it and twisting the lock behind her. No chances would be taken, other than the ones she wished to take.

Looking over at the bed, she put a palm over her mouth, stifling the laughter that threatened to shoot out. Well and truly worn out, Steve was sprawled out on the mattress, lying on his back and his limbs spread wide. Light snores floated out of his opened mouth, and the comforter under him was knotted up. Having spent the night several times at his place, she'd gotten to know his patterns, and him sprawling was not terribly uncommon. If he couldn't hold onto her, at least, and she felt the rosy flush invade her cheeks at the thought.

She took a step away from the door, clearing her throat loudly. Steve twitched, snorting once, and she lifted her chin.

"Hey, handsome," she murmured, her voice enough to draw him fully out of his slumber. Letting out a low sigh, he began to sit up, scrubbing a hand down his face as he glanced at the clock on the nightstand.

"Holly," he muttered, pushing himself to lean back against the headboard. "Sorry, I meant to stay up, to say good-night, but—"

Upon looking at her fully, he cut himself off, his eyebrows rising minutely. Nonchalantly, she shrugged, her hands going into the deep pockets of the coat.

"It's okay, you're up now."

Steve tilted his head to the left, incredulity lighting his features. "Are you actually wearing a trench coat? Where in the hell did you get that?"

Her natural cheekiness flowed up, allowing her to wink at him before answering. "Thrift stores are beautiful things sometimes."

He barely stemmed a bark of laughter at that. "I guess. And why are you wearing it?"

Holly's fingers curled in her pockets for a second or two, before she slowly trailed them up to rest along the tied belt.

"Well, I got more than one costume for tonight," she explained, taking another step forward. His eyes darted down, down to the straps of the heeled sandals, and he unconsciously straightened up further. Inclining her head, she went on, "One for the bigger party...and I thought I could get an extra for a slightly more private one with you."

She lowered her eyes then, peering at him through the lashes as he sat up fully. His focus was entirely on her then, and she felt a tremor of nerves shake her briefly. While she and Steve had had several passionate private moments, they'd yet to become fully intimate. Holly had not wanted to push him too far, too fast, not after he'd confessed his lack of intimacy with anyone after Peggy's death. However, she could feel his desire for her growing with each stolen moment together, the insistence of his form and the magnetic pull of him bringing her in closer and closer each time.

And now, now she just couldn't help herself. She wanted to see, to know if perhaps she were reading the signs wrong, or if he wanted her fully.

Going off the lustful glaze to his irises at that moment, the anticipation threading through his body, she surmised that she hadn't been wrong at all.

"Show me," he murmured then, the husky lilt to his voice sending a thrill down her spine. Grabbing the belt of the coat, she untied it slowly, relishing the burn of his blue eyes as they focused intently on her fingers. Quelling the shake in them as best she could, she opened the coat and let it fall off her shoulders onto the floor. The pool of beige material circled her feet, but he was no longer paying any attention to that. Instead, he fixated upon the soft, white cloth clinging to her body, the fall of the skirt mid-thigh and the fake golden clasps holding the shoulder straps in the place. The draping material was lined along the edges with bronze-gold piping, glinting in the low lamplight. His gaze trailed down to her legs, his pupils blowing a little wider at the heeled sandals she was sporting and the way they completed the effect.

A nervous chuckle bubbled in her chest, but she held it down. Greek goddesses, even those who dressed in questionable likenesses of them at Halloween, could not giggle when clear admiration was before them.

Instead, Holly strode forward, hips swaying and making the material of her costume whisper softly.

"Like it?" She'd seen the art collection books on his shelves, several texts boasting pictures of the ancient gods and goddesses of Greece and Rome. And, given how well-thumbed they were, she knew how much he enjoyed looking at them and studying them. So it wasn't totally accurate, but she had an inkling that accuracy wasn't going to be at the fore of his mind when he saw her get-up.

The red in his neck flushed up to his face, and Steve let out a low, rumbling chuckle.

"You have no idea, sweetheart," he intoned, more shivers fluttering through her at the naked desire in the words. He raised a hand, holding it out to her. "C'mere."

Obeying his request, she lifted a knee onto the end of the bed, crawling to him and settling in his lap. It was then that she had a much clearer idea of how he felt about it, coupled with the sheepish grin he gave when she felt him shift his own hips. It was at odds with the feral look in his eyes, and she couldn't help the spiral of heat shooting down her abdomen. Mouths met, the stroke and clash heightening all as hands roamed, the light touches driving them both on. The heat between them spiked as Steve teased her bottom lip with the tip of his tongue, a sigh wafting out of Holly as she let him past. Taste and touch, sight and smell were wrapped up in one another at that moment, the world contracting to the room, to the bed, to only one another as he gripped her tightly, a moan stifled as she brushed pecks along the curve of his jaw, down his neck. Unable to help himself, he turned her over, hovering over her on hands and knees as she let out a surprised cry and settled upon her back.

About to delve in again, he was stopped by her hand coming up, fingers pressed to his lips. Quirking a brow, he felt the slight humor in him drain away at the utter seriousness in her gaze. The question in her dark eyes loomed between them, even as the burn threatened to climb. If he wished to stop, to reconsider, this was his chance, he realized. She was giving him the chance to retreat before going too far. There had been similar moments over the past few months in which he'd taken an out, or found one for himself, and she had conceded, knowing that his past would not allow him to easily fall into intimacy again.

That night, though, he was of no mind to retreat, to withdraw into the safe shell he'd created for himself. He longed for the culmination they had been working towards, craved her in a way he had not craved anyone for the longest time. He could not hold back, refused to let the fear of vulnerability dominate him any longer.

Slowly, carefully, he shook his head, the spark in her eyes growing as he pressed closer once more. Gently, he curled his fingers around the back of her knee, drawing her leg up so that it crooked around his hip. Any remaining residual doubt disappeared when he captured her lips with his, delight and desire reignited once more. Words fell away in the midst of their passion, the dark hours of the night enveloping them as they enveloped each other.

 **xXxXxXx**

In the early morning light, as All Saints Day brightened despite the loom of the clouds, Steve sniffed and sighed, roused from his dreams. Inhaling deeply, he opened his eyes slowly, arms tightening around the warm weight pressed against him. Holly was still there, the softness of her bare skin calling to him even as she continued to doze. The pads of his fingers traipsed along her arm, flitting over stomach, the jumps of the muscles under his touch enticing him furthers. He nuzzled at the nape of her neck, contentment and satisfaction rolling through him as he held her. Carefully, he propped himself up on one elbow, gaze flowing over profile as she continued to sleep. The tangled web of her dark brown waves curled and spilled onto the pillow, her mouth opened slightly and allowing a bit of drool to pool out.

Just as beautiful then as she was a few hours ago, he noted, bending and pecking her bare shoulder.

"Holl," he breathed her name, the light call in her ear causing her to stir. Repeating it once more, he watched as her eyes fluttered open, her hand coming up and swiping at the crust in the corners as she groaned. He withheld a chuckle; she really wasn't much of a morning person. The fact that she made an effort for him, and for his son, most weekends made the affection for her all the stronger in that moment. Tenderly, he smoothed back her hair behind her ear, the bared skin of her neck pressed with his kisses. Her groans turned into pleased hums, and she rolled onto her back, her tired gaze laced with fondness.

"Morning," she murmured, her own hands moving to rest along his back as he settled between her legs again. Supporting himself on his elbows, he let the corner of his mouth curl up, the tip of his nose bumping hers briefly.

"Good morning," he replied, the gravel in his voice not yet eradicated. Inhaling deeply, he pulled back a little to let his gaze scan over her. "How are you feeling?"

Her smile grew slightly wider, her eyes flicking shut as she tipped her head back into the pillow. "Exhausted. Wonderfully exhausted."

A flush of pride and something deeper moved through him then, and he smirked. "Ah. Not sore?"

"Not _too_ sore," she amended, an edge of naughtiness lacing through her tone. Her knees came up, framing his hips and making him grunt when they brushed against his skin. Keeping her voice deliberately light, she continued, "Look, I can move my legs again."

He clicked his tongue at her, the playful light in his eyes returning. "Too bad. I would've carried you wherever you needed to go, otherwise."

"Darn, missed my opportunity," she mumbled, snapping her fingers as she let out a melodramatic huff.

"Hardly," he mumbled against her skin, lips brushing over her collarbone. It was easy, simple, to fall into the moment with her, be himself at his core even in the cold, morning light. Maybe that was why he loved her so...

The revelation, the consciously-made one, flooded him then, and he paused in his tender ministrations. It was true, though. He had fallen in love with her, over the weeks and hours spent in their building, the chance meetings turning into dates together, and now...now he understood it all. The warmth in his heart swelled as he lifted himself up to look at her again.

"What?" she asked him, her smile fading as she spotted the depth of sincerity in his expression. Steve took in a deep breath, then another before he swallowed hard and opened his mouth.

"I, I love you, Holly," he said, meeting her eye-line fully. He couldn't help himself, truly; now that he acknowledged the depth of his feelings for her, even after what others would deem a short time, he couldn't hold back. He knew it, knew what it was inside him, and if he had learned anything in the last nearly five years without Peggy, it was not to let time and truth fall to the wayside. If anything, he was a bit miffed at himself that he chose to confess after love-making (the tackiness of it, he would lament later in private), but he ignored that for the moment. Holly's eyes had widened significantly, blinking rapidly as she took in a few deep breaths. Sheepishly, he dropped his gaze, focusing on her clavicle as he stumbled on. "I know it might be too early to say it, but...I do. And I understand if you're not—"

Like last night, her hand came up then, fingers pressing to his lips to stop his speech. But instead of offering him a way out, she offered him a slowly dawning smile, the morning light catching her dark irises and picking up the joy rushing into them. She cupped his cheek, smoothing her pads across the skin until she slid them into his hair. Drawing him down to rest his forehead against hers, she too inhaled sharply, her courage fed by his.

"I love you, too, Steve," she whispered back, and the warmth in his heart spread out again, filled his veins as he let out a delighted laugh. Her own giggles joined in, and she framed his face with her palms, crooning, "Screw morning breath, I gotta kiss you."

All too pleased at the prospect, he bent and met her halfway, the dragon breath they both sported ignored in the wake of their declarations and reciprocation. The deep, long kiss they shared was about to be followed by another when loud bangs shook the wood of the door. At once, Steve pushed himself away, his eyes ricocheting over to the door as the handle was turned, the bolted lock preventing it from opening.

"Daddy!" the little voice on the other side of the door called, the handle rattling again. Instinctively, Steve grabbed the sheets, shucking them up to cover him from the waist down, and Holly buried her face into his chest, the bubbles of laughter returning then. The handle rattled once more, and Jamie cried out grumpily, "Get up! I want waffles."

"Oh, shit," Steve whispered, so low that Holly could barely hear the curse. When she understood, she let out a sigh, a chuckle riding along with it. Clearing his throat, he raised his voice and called back, "I'll be out in a minute, bud! Why don't you turn on the dragon movie and we can watch it during breakfast?"

"Okay," Jamie replied, his thudding footsteps retreating from the door and down the hallway. Steve, blowing out a sharp breath, looked down at his girlfriend, watching as she smothered her laughter with both hands pressed over her mouth. Raising an eyebrow, he flicked a glance back at the door.

"You locked it," he said, not really asking a question. Still, she felt compelled to answer, once she stopped chuckling.

"Didn't want to take any chances," she told him, fingers plucking at the sheets and half-covering herself with them. The blond man nodded, snorting once as he canted his head.

"Smart," he pronounced, giving her a smirk. Gently, he reached for her, pulling her in close again. "Smart, beautiful..."

Holly snickered, swatting his arm playfully before pushing the sheets back.

"Enough of that," she chided him, her teasing tone accompanied by a peck at the corner of his mouth. He let out a soft whine, and she chuckled again. "Get up, we've got waffles to make and the five-year-old to feed."

His eyes darkened as he watched her climb out of the bed, the catch of the light around her bare form making sparks snap along his veins. Still, when she caught him staring, she shook her head and stuck her tongue out at him, her attention turning to his dresser and hunting for clean clothes to wear.

"Yes, ma'am," he retorted, rising himself and crossing over to her. His Nationals shorts were paired with a navy tee, and he made quick work of hunting for something she could put on. A set of sweats with the drawstring tightened and the legs rolled up served well for her, along with one of his old Shield Advertising t-shirts. All were loose on her, but with her tousled hair and bright smile throughout, he thought she looked great. One last, morning-breath kiss was exchanged before they exited the room, the door left open behind them as they walked hand in hand out to the kitchen.

The television rumbled with the sounds of animated dragons screeching and their Viking enemies bracing against the attack, and the two adults chuckled as they detoured into the kitchen. Coffee had already brewed, and Holly indulged while Steve took out a bottle of sports drink for himself. Just as she swung herself up to sit on the counter, small feet padded towards them.

"Morning, Daddy," Jamie murmured, coming into the kitchen and hugging his father's legs. Before the older man could say anything back to his boy, the little guy moved onto the brunette woman seated on the nearby counter. Patting her knee, he grinned up at her. "Hi, Holly. You sleep over again?"

Caught mid-sip of her cup of coffee, Holly cleared her throat a couple of times as she swallowed and set the mug to the side.

"Uh, yes. Yes, I did," she told him, her dark gaze darting so fast over Steve it barely registered. The blond man smirked to himself as he rustled through the cupboards, withdrawing the container for the ingredients to make batter.

"Waffles!" Jamie cheered, pleased to be getting his way. Steve chuckled to himself, gesturing at him with the whisk he'd fetched from the lower drawer.

"Yep, just as you requested, Your Highness," he teased the boy, the child sticking his tongue out at him briefly. Shaking his head and starting to mix everything in a bowl, he grinned down and bade him, "Go wash up, okay?"

Jamie rolled his eyes and groaned, but his father was adamant on that score, so he shuffled slowly out to the bathroom. The distant rush of water through the pipes filtered to the adults as the waffle maker was taken out and plugged in, but once it stopped, it was awhile before either of them heard a peep out of the boy. Finishing the dregs of her coffee, Holly stepped out through the arch and into the hall to check on him. Her eyes went wide, a little sound reverberating out of her throat. Hearing it, her boyfriend went to her, staring in the direction she was looking and biting his lip.

Jamie was leaning against the jamb of his open doorway, just staring inside and tugging at the hem of his sleep-shirt. Uncertain of what he couldn't, or could, see from his vantage point, the older man coughed.

"Bud, what are you doing?" Steve asked, making the boy jump in shock. Dramatically, the little guy patted his chest like he'd seen on T.V., and his father was hard-pressed not to laugh at it. Still, Jamie's eyes strayed back to the bedroom, a finger pointing at it.

"Your room is messy, Daddy. It's never messy," he stated, awe and a measure of being disgruntled in his tone. He was not allowed to leave his toys all over the floor, nor his clothes. Daddy had been a soldier, and was taught to clean up everything, something he wanted Jamie to learn, too. It wasn't fair that he was breaking the rule. "But there's stuff all over the floor right now."

Blood rushed into Steve's face, the laughter in his chest fading as he focused beyond the boy to the strewn costume, shoes, and his own clothing from the night before. He had trouble clearing his throat as he hastily strode forward, catching Holly's chagrined expression out the corner of his eye. Quickly, he pulled Jamie away from the open door, before he could really examine what was all tossed around, and shut the panel.

"Yes, well..." he stumbled, unable to think of an excuse in the moment. Holly, sporting pink in her cheeks as well, came forward then, taking Jamie's hand in hers and leading him away.

"That's my fault, bud. I left stuff on your dad's floor, but I'm going to clean it up after breakfast," she explained, hoping it would be enough to satisfy him. The boy had a good measure of curiosity in him, and the potential to ask why hovered in the air around them. She held her breath as he mulled it over, the little guy shrugging his shoulders and turning to head into the living room.

"Oh," he muttered, accepting her word and not looking any deeper into it. Both she and Steve let out low sighs of relief, the pair of adults watching as the young boy hunkered down on the floor with a couple of action figures as the movie played on.

"Good thing he only saw some of the clothes," Holly muttered aloud, nudging Steve in the side with her elbow. Rolling his eyes, he carded a hand through his hair.

"Don't," he grumbled, letting out another groan as she chuckled and tutted at him, her own fingers moving into his hair to make it lie right again. Kissing his cheek, he caught the glimmer in her gaze, the one he could properly name now, and he returned it fully as they went back into the kitchen, plating breakfast for them and his son.

* * *

 **A/N:** Hey, look! Only two and a half weeks between posts! I'm getting better! Or trying, at least.

So, as promised, Jamie celebrates his fifth birthday on Halloween (Rogers boys with holiday birthdays, isn't that fun?), and...Steve and Holly confess their love for one another. Maybe it's too soon, maybe not, but this was one of those moments where the story dictated to me, and not I to it. I know that won't be totally kosher with everyone, but...well, it is what it is.

Hoping to get the next chapter out in a couple weeks again, so stay tuned! I also may have good news to report, in that I am interviewing for a full-time job that would be a great opportunity for me. Wish me luck, please. :) Happy 2018, everybody.

Lastly, I have put up the first chapter for a new Steve/Holly AU, if anyone here is interested. It is called Growing Pains, and can be found under the My Stories tab on my page (also, it features skinny!Steve, if that appeals at all). Check it out, if you want!

I own nothing from the MCU, nor do I own any other pop culture references made in the text (Marvel comics, _How to Train Your Dragon_ , _Hocus Pocus_ , etc.).

Thanks for reading, please review, and I'll see you all for the next one!


	13. Chapter 13

True to her word, Holly did clean up the mess she left on Steve's floor after breakfast, appeasing Jamie in that regard...but it would not be the last time such a mess would be found there. From that point out, though, the pair of them were far more careful about leaving evidence of their passion where the five-year-old could see it. And they had several decent opportunities to practice. Having finally achieved physical intimacy changed many things, made some things stronger, and even in some cases, didn't change anything at all. The strength and depth of their feelings for one another eclipsed it, the truth of falling in love something neither Holly nor Steve would ignore.

Short weeks passed, the vestiges of autumn in Washington, D.C. touched by the first whispers of winter, and the promises of the seasons coming upon them. As well as that, they had the promises and plans of the first round of holidays to discuss; after all, Thanksgiving was mere days away.

"So, just your parents are coming, right?" Steve asked the Saturday before as they started another lap around the reflecting pool. Having caught dinner a little early on their date night (Jamie was at Uncle Sammy's, the fellow treating him to an ice cream sundae and movie night), they had decided to meander on over to the popular Mall area, a few of the citizens dotting the pathways around it. The evening light was beginning to stretch, the pinks and oranges mixing with the yellow as the sun set, the water in the pool catching it when the leaves in the separated enough. And, given that it was well above forty degrees, both man and woman were relishing the weather (both had come from states where winter would have already set in, and even Steve, who had lived in the District for five years, could not get enough of the warmth of the fall down there). A light wind nipped at them through their jackets, giving them both the excuse to walk arm in arm.

"Yep. Hank is taking Jodie down to my sister's in Iowa Thursday through Sunday," she recounted for both their sakes. They both worked better with a plan, and hosting her parents for the holiday certainly required it. It was a suggestion that they had fallen on readily; with Heather wishing to host her in-laws and Hank not able to justify such a short journey with his young daughter in tow, her parents had wanted to spend the holiday with her. When Steve suggested hosting dinner at his place, it seemed that all the pieces had fallen into place, and that was that. "Mom and Dad should be in late Wednesday night. I promise we won't descend into the madness until the next morning."

That last sentence was delivered with a cheeky smirk and wink up at him, and Steve chuckled at that, despite the slight furrow cutting across his forehead.

"Okay, good to know."

Holly peered up at him, palm sliding up to squeeze his bicep and letting her eyebrows incline. "You're not planning on smuggling yourself and Jamie out of here without my knowing?"

Steve smirked, though the furrow didn't dissipate. "No, of course not. Then again, I don't know if I'd tell if I were planning an escape route."

Holly rolled her eyes, attempt to suppress the smile that threatened to bloom even as a nervous churn hit her stomach. Despite truly trusting him to be honest with her, who was to say he wouldn't want to vanish into the night? Meeting a partner's parents, in any capacity, could be frightening. Looking at him again, the warmth in his eyes reflected back at her.

"Seriously, though, I look forward to meeting your parents."

Holly dipped her chin, but she caught the slight flash of something in his expression. "You're nervous."

The furrow creased a bit harder then, and his smile turned a tad strained. "I may share some similarities with a long-tailed feline around certain furniture pieces."

"I get it." The bubble of laughter in her chest faded as they walked in silence for a few moments. Letting out a soft breath, she slid her hand down his arm, entwining her fingers with his when she got to his hand. Lightly bumping her shoulder against his arm, she told him, "Maybe it's just as cliché to say, but I think they'll like you. They'll love Jamie, for sure."

"At least there's that," he replied, smiling softly at the thought of his boy. Lighting upon another thought, he stated, "And also, Pietro and Darcy may be a good buffer."

Holly dipped her chin, facing forward as the thinking line in her brow scrunched up. To better round out their party of five, Holly had extended an invitation to her friend upon learning that she had no fixed plans for the holiday. The infamous Pietro—who, as it turned out, had been a friend of Steve's from his college years—would be joining her, the bar he worked at actually granting him the whole day off. (And there was the added bonus that they were officially a couple, affording Holly the chance to pay Darcy back on some joking comments she'd made at her expense regarding Steve.) Thinking of what she knew of her friend, and her chosen companion, the scrunch of her brow became sharper.

"Could be."

Steve glanced down at her, an eyebrow spiking. "Now you're nervous about Darcy, aren't you?"

Holly glanced up, opening her mouth to deny it. The deadpan look Steve cast at her forced the excuse from her tongue, and she shrugged then.

"Not so much nervous as…anticipating the inevitable," she professed. She knew that, while Darcy's heart was in the right place, she wasn't always the pinnacle of social behavior. A lot of it was due to her own free spirit, but was also a product of her upbringing (which she had personally described as one part benign neglect to two parts passive aggressive sarcasm tearing each other down), and on occasion, it surfaced.

Having expressed her concerns for her friend to her boyfriend before, Holly also knew Steve understood her line of thought at the moment. Gently, he brought his arm up to curl around her shoulders, bringing her against his side and sharing his warmth with her. Hers went around his waist, their steps moving in time as they continued their walk around the reflecting pool, the Washington Monument looming ever-larger as they approached that end of it.

"We'll get through it," he told her, pressing a kiss into her hair. He was rewarded with a small, genuine grin from her, and the remainder of their stroll was had in companionable silence.

As projected, that following Wednesday night found Holly at Ronald Reagan National Airport, bouncing nervously on the balls of her heels as she watched the incoming flight screens. Her parents' plane had landed just a few minutes prior from the airport in Minneapolis, but she had yet to see them emerge from the baggage corral. Glancing down at the clock on her phone, she frowned a bit before tucking it away. She had sent her mother a message about where she was standing, but the minutes ticked by, and still the faces she was looking for had not emerged from the crowd.

Five more minutes, she promised herself, and then she would meander on down there herself, see what was going on.

"Holly Jean!"

The voice crying out her name grabbed her attention, causing her to pivoting sharply towards it. Upon recognizing it, she smiled brightly, the grin growing wider when she finally saw her mother and father. Lisa and Paul Martin truly were there, albeit somewhat travel weary. Though their postures were tired, she was pleased to see her mom, silvered blonde hair secured in her braid and blue eyes lighting up at the sight of her daughter. The brunette jogged to the older woman, throwing her arms around her and receiving a tight hug in greeting.

"Mom," she breathed, squeezing her hard once more before letting go. Holding her at arm's length, she examined the matriarch of the family, her eyebrows shooting up and a knowing glint in her gaze. "Flight was sucky, huh?"

Lisa chuckled tiredly, patting her daughter's shoulder fondly. "Only slightly."

Inclining her head, Holly turned then to her father. "Hey, Dad."

Paul Martin grinned down at his youngest, a hand running through his salt-and-pepper hair before scrubbing down his scruffy jaw.

"So good to see you," he murmured, an arm slinging around her shoulders and drawing her in for a hug of his own. Sighing in contentment, he let her go after a few moments, his dark gaze scanning the crowd just behind his little girl. "So, the boyfriend wasn't able to come along, I see."

Holly put on a faux-exasperated expression. "Look at the time you guys got in, Dad. Steve has to put his son to bed right about now. You'll have to save the Father routine until tomorrow."

Glancing at the watch on his wrist, he understood how true that was. And he didn't actually begrudge his daughter's boyfriend taking his own fatherly duties seriously. Focusing upon the last part of her statement, he affixed her with a long-suffering look.

"Have I ever done such a thing?"

"Well, never by sitting on the front porch with a shotgun in hand, but…"

Paul snorted, fetching up the suitcase that was his. "Don't blame me for those boys having no sense of humor."

"Either way, I suppose that just means we'll have to meet him tomorrow, then?" Lisa cut in, her own suitcase coming to hand. The three of them began to walk towards the nearest exit, preparing to cross quickly to get to the parking area where Holly had left her car. The older woman linked her free arm with Holly's, glancing at her curiously. "Both him and his little guy?"

Holly smiled softly back at her, the flutter of nerves surfacing in her stomach. Given that her mother had issued friendly warnings about getting involved with a single father, she couldn't help it. However, the fact that she did not appear to hold any animosity had to be a good sign, and so she focused on that.

"Yep, exactly. They look forward to it," she told them both, swiveling to look at her dad as well. Paul gave her a wary smile, while Lisa maintained her own pleasant expression, the corners of her eyes crinkling.

"Us, too," she stated, honesty in her tone. No doubt she was looking forward to it; it would assuage her curiosity about the man her little girl had chosen to get closer to when she was so far away from home. Paul hummed in agreement with his wife, noting his daughter's true grin and eager pace as she led the way back to her car.

Driving them back to her place, Holly had told them that her bedroom was theirs to use while they were in town. Though her mom and dad had thought about getting a hotel, she wouldn't hear of it, not when she had a couch to sleep on and they were only there for a few days. Praising the set-up of her apartment, and admiring the drawings that Jamie had gifted her with from their position on the refrigerator, the small family unit sat up for awhile longer. Lisa reported on the state of the family back home: Hank had started seeing someone himself, a pretty realtor who was endeavoring to help him find a bigger space for his auto shop, and Jodie was preparing with her class for the holiday concert at her school. Heather and Jake were busy with their boys, though her elder sister had been given the opportunity to present a speech honoring another teacher who was retiring after thirty years as the history instructor. Paul spoke a little about the new housing project he was a part of, a neighborhood close to theirs intent on putting up five new domiciles on the block. With his company getting the job, there was no time to lose before the major snow hit. Holly was grateful to have the quiet moments with them, basking in their presence and appreciating it all the more after the time spent apart.

Soon enough, though, the ticking clock on the wall told them it would be time for them to get some rest themselves. After all, the next day promised to be a full one, indeed. Grabbing up a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt of Steve's she'd borrowed weeks ago, Holly changed in the bathroom and bid her parents good-night, more hugs exchanged before the door shut quietly. Taking to her new bed for the next few days, Holly wrapped herself in her heavy blanket, turning over to sleep. Unfortunately, sleep would not come, and after staring up in the dark for a long while, she let out a low groan. Fetching up her phone from where it rested on the coffee table, she tapped out a swift message. Biting her lip, she waited impatiently for a response. After a few minutes, it came through, and she grinned to herself. Throwing the blanket off, she tiptoed over to the door, her phone pocketed along with her keys. Sliding out of the apartment silently, she locked it up behind her before she turned and trotted down the hall.

Just as he had promised when he returned her message, Steve was there, leaning against his doorjamb and blinking sleepily.

"Hey, honey," he murmured when she got closer, the rough rumble of sleep in his voice. Scrubbing down his face with one hand, he stepped out the door and latched it behind him. As she went and wrapped her arms around him, her face pressed to his chest, his own curled around her, and he wondered, "It's so late, what's wrong?"

"Like I messaged, couldn't sleep," she responded, the words muffled by his t-shirt. Looking up then, she let him see the red rimming her eyes, and he tutted under his breath. Fingers began to rub in soothing circles along her back, and her eyelids drooped. Letting out a soft moan, she told him, "The sofa isn't as comfy as my bed…or yours."

His fingertips pushed a little harder, drawing her in closer. Opening her eyes again, she caught the brief glimmer in his irises, even as he clicked his tongue.

"Dangerous territory there, and you know it," he said, daring to brush a palm down to the hem of her shirt, his hand dipping under the material to rest it against her skin. She had made the decision to stay in her apartment with her parents over the weekend, but he was guessing that she might have been regretting that decision at that moment. Her sleepovers had become more frequent since they'd finally _connected_ , but on that score, she wished to spend as much as she could with her parents. And he did not begrudge her that in the slightest.

Still, with how much he liked having her in his bed, and the lateness of the hour, he couldn't resist making it a little more difficult for her.

She hummed softly in her throat, raising herself up on her toes and wrapping her arms around his neck.

"Maybe," she breathed, tilting her head to the side as she pressed her body to his. Taking the cue, he bent his head and kissed her, the feel of her lips and the taste of her mouth beckoning to him as ever. Long, slow sips were exchanged, the palm under her shirt sliding up her back as her own fingers dipped beneath the collar of his shirt.

"Dunno if it's sweet or cruel of you to come over right now," Steve drawled when they finally separated, heavy breaths breaking up his words as he braced his forehead against hers. "Gettin' both of us worked up like this."

"Most likely both," Holly replied, her slurring voice telling him that she was just as affected. Pulling back, her gaze wandered back down to her own door. She would need to get back soon, but she had to see him, their earlier good-nights over the phone not enough. Were it a different night, she would have no qualms with taking his hand, walking him back into his home and sliding into his bed, but she couldn't do it that night. While it was her home, and she had every right to do as she pleased, she had wanted to respect her parents' sensibilities. They were far more conservative than her, and had opinions about certain matters. While she didn't agree with all of them, the ones that she could concede on for a weekend, she would. It had already proven more difficult than she had anticipated, but not sleeping with Steve was something she would do, once she was resolved.

She just needed a bit more to tide herself over.

"One more kiss?" she asked him, sugary sweetness in her voice at odds with the glint in her irises.

"Don't know if I can stop at one," he intoned, the roughness returning to his voice. Relishing it, she threaded a hand into his hair, mouth connecting with his again. It was over all too quickly, with him sighing and giving her rear a light tap as he nodded towards her place. "Alright, you'd better get back home before your parents send out a search party."

An unhappy whine tore from her throat, and he could only stifle a laugh at it, despite feeling the same way. When he merely spiked an eyebrow at her, she huffed out a breath.

"Fine," she conceded, though it was plain that she did not wish to do so. Reluctantly, she stretched up on her toes once more, the kiss she pecked at the corner of his mouth a chaste one. "Love you."

"Love you, too," he whispered back, returning her kiss with one on her temple. Gently, he pushed her back, the pads of his fingers skimming down her arms as he stepped up to his door. "Good night."

Her own farewell was exchanged, and she turned to go, the soft click and shifting of his door echoing to her as she went. Feeling marginally better about the situation, she unlocked her own door, going in as silently as possible. Sliding the locks home, she turned around in time to catch her mother leaning against the breakfast bar, a knowing grin on her lips and her tired eyes shining. She must have gotten up to use the bathroom or something, and saw that she was gone. Holly froze, rapidly blinking as she tried to think of some response.

"Uh…"

Lisa, her unbounded hair shift around her shoulders, shook her head before winking covertly at her youngest.

"I won't say a word," she promised softly, pushing away from the counter and smoothing down her robe. Turning, she let out a yawn, waggling her fingers back at Holly as she plodded down the hall to the bedroom. "G'night."

As the door clicked shut behind her, Lisa could faintly hear the chuckles floating out of her daughter, the distant ruffle of blankets causing her to grin before getting back into bed.

 **xXxXxXx**

The next morning, Thanksgiving Day, began with little fanfare, with the three Martins trading off turns in the shower and Paul choosing to make breakfast (as she and her fella would be doing enough cooking as it was, he'd teased Holly, before raiding her stores for bacon and pancake mix). It was after, however, that Lisa chose to raise a point of concern, and Holly had to shore up her defenses as best she could.

"I already told you, we've got it covered, Mom," Holly said, gathering up the carrier bag that she had filled the evening before. Her mother stood at the opening into the kitchen, arms folded and watching as she packed up a few more odds and ends for cooking the remainder of the dinner. The younger brunette shook her head when she saw the way Lisa bit her lip and looked a little lost. Gesturing back towards the living room, she told her, "You and Dad don't have to worry about helping; Steve and I—"

"Well, if we're going to be in the same place anyway, your father and I are willing to help, that's all I'm saying," Lisa cut her off, raising a hand and conceding defeat. Holly barely felt the strain in her chest loosen at the side she knew it was no easy concession, and unlikely to end there. Still, she managed a grin for her, maneuvering around her to walk over to the door. The older woman followed, eyeing the clock on the wall as they went. "So what time?"

"Well, I'm going over now." Holly let her eyebrows incline, the expression on her face communicating that she would be going alone. Flicking her gaze past her mother, over to where her dad was sitting in the living room. His dark gaze met hers briefly before he went back to fiddling with her remotes, the television coming to life then. Latching onto the distraction, Holly supplied, "You guys can hang out here for awhile, maybe head down the hall around noon?"

"We can do that," Paul said, speaking before his wife could get a word in edgewise. Gesturing to the plate with bacon and leftover pancakes on the coffee table, he next pointed to the television. Cheery music played as a familiar logo lit up the screen. "Lisa, look, Holly's got a few episodes of that house hunting show you like saved on the box, just for us."

Holly's guilty glance slid away from her mother's when the older woman looked at her again.

"Yeah…totally for you guys," she said, smiling sheepishly before tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. Lisa glanced from her back to the television, and to her husband, before letting out a huffing breath in defeat.

"…I'll let you know which houses get picked," she told her daughter, a weary smile on her lips. Holly snorted audibly, going to the door then and failing to hide her smile.

"Thanks."

Leaving them to it (and catching her dad's muted wince when she glanced over her shoulder one more time), she quickly went down the hall to Steve's apartment, testing the handle and finding the door unlocked. Letting herself in, she called out a greeting as she stepped over the threshold. When she shut the door behind her, she let her grin drop, a low groan tearing out of her throat as she let her bag hit the floor beside her. Leaning back against the panel, she scrubbed her hands down her face, another groan of frustration pouring out of her.

A low chuckle resounded, along with a few heavy footsteps, and she let her hands fall to her sides as she registered the source.

"And good morning to you, too, dear," Steve said sardonically, cupping her chin and tilting her face up for a kiss. Accepting it, she let out a slow breath when it ended, patting her palm against his chest.

"Sorry, just had to talk my mom down from coming over too early and doing her overtaking-the-holiday thing she does."

Her boyfriend spiked an eyebrow at her words. "Oh yeah? How's that?"

"Holly, come play," Jamie said, running up to them as well. After hugging her around her legs, he started tugging at the side of her jeans to convince her to come along. Steve's blue eyes darted over to the kitchen, his lip bitten as he gave her a concerned look. Holly sighed, and shook her head at the boy.

"In a minute, bud. I gotta help your dad first, okay?" she said, smiling back at him. When he let out a huff of breath and a little whine, Steve gave him a hard look, the silent reprimand enough to make him stop. Gently, Holly ruffled his hair, crouching down and whispering a promise to come over as soon as she was done. Appeased, the little guy wandered back into the living room, the click and clack of his toy cars meeting their ears. Getting back onto her feet, she followed Steve into the kitchen and put her bag onto the counter. "To answer your question, since my grandparents had gotten older, my mom has been the one to take over the cooking and gathering people into her home for Thanksgiving and Christmas. It's difficult to imagine her not doing it, but I had to insist and Dad bribed her with breakfast leftovers and the television show she loves and he hates."

Steve chuckled at that. "Which one?"

Holly scrunched up her brow, a tremor of laughter in her tone. "…Any house renovation show on HGTV. He's a contractor, and he can pick out the mistakes faster than most of the hosts."

"Ah. So, big sacrifice for him," he announced, the marked seriousness in his voice too much to be taken seriously. Holly laughed, hooking her thumb at the stove.

"Make sure he gets a good helping of dark meat for that."

"Will do." Steve dipped his chin at the stove, the oven already in full use cooking the turkey he'd picked up a few days prior. The bird itself was decently sized, just able to fit inside to cook. Looking at it again, he could only smirk when Holly peered through the window to it and whistled. "Think there will be plenty for him."

"At least we don't have that to worry about," she remarked, shaking her head in good humor and returning her attention the bag of goodies she brought over. Mashed potato mix bags came out, along with gravy and boxed stuffing. Cans of vegetables and her additional stores of milk and butter were put away, too. Darcy and Pietro would be arriving with dessert, something the other brunette easily promised her friend on Monday when they finalized plans on their lunch break.

One after another, the sides were tackled as the turkey cooked, Jamie running in to help when Holly called for him. His job of putting the cranberry sauce into a bowl for her (dumping it straight from the can that she'd already opened, but it kept him occupied) was met with enthusiasm, along with his father's quiet request to set up the centerpiece he'd made in preschool on the table. It was simple, a tiny paper cornucopia with construction paper leaves and food glued to it, but he was proud of it. Holly was, too, and told him how great it looked when it was put in the center of the table. Something inside Steve warmed significantly when she went to his boy, hugging him from behind and rocking him a bit as the little guy giggled.

Just before noon, three raps came at the front door, and Steve shared one hurried glance with Holly as she went to answer it. Smoothing down her sweater dress at the last minute—despite knowing her parents had already seen her in it—she opened the door, bidding Paul and Lisa to come in. Steve stood by the breakfast bar, the hand planted on the edge of the counter curling slightly as the nerves inside him jumped up.

Bringing them over, Holly stepped up to his side, her hand curling around the crook of his elbow.

"Mom, Dad. This is Steve," she introduced them, hope in her face as she looked between her parents and her boyfriend. Steve smiled, discreetly wiping his hands against the sides of his khakis, hoping his appearance in the blue-checked button-up would pass muster.

"Hi," he greeted them both, a smile on his lips as he extended a hand out to Lisa and Paul. "Pleased to meet you both, finally."

Lisa grinned broadly up at him, murmuring her hellos as she shook his proffered palm. Paul was next, his dark gaze assessing as he looked up slightly at the blond man (he was by no means a short man, but Steve did top over him by three inches).

"It's good to meet you, too, Steven," he replied, the use of the fellow's full first name underlined somewhat. Steve's grin remained, but the brief tremor in his irises must have registered, as Paul's eyebrows inclined slightly. The patter of short steps met their ears, and they all looked in time for Jamie to trot up to them, wedging between his dad and Holly.

"Holly, who are those people?" Jamie asked in a hushed voice, nestling a little shyly into her side. Crouching down beside him, she laid a hand on his shoulder, pointing to her parents in turn.

"Jamie, this is my mom and dad. Lisa and Paul," she introduced the boy. Blinking up at them, the child dared to give them a small wave.

"Hi, Lisa, hi, Paul."

"Hey there, Jamie," Lisa said, her own grin broadening as she looked at the boy. Coming closer, she bent at the waist, examining him as she braced her hands on her knees. "You're a handsome young man, aren't you?"

The little guy blushed, a delighted smile decorating his lips as he ducked his head bashfully.

"I dunno," he muttered, scratching the back of his neck in imitation of his father. Looking up once more, his brown eyes flicked between her and the older, dark-haired man behind her. "You're Holly's mom and dad?"

Lisa nodded, her loose silver-blonde locks falling around her shoulders. "That's right, kiddo."

Jamie assessed them for a few more moments, before he nodded himself.

"You look nice, like her," he stated, a decision reached in his own mind. Flapping a hand back to the play carpet scattered with toys in front of the couch, he asked, "Want to see my race cars?"

Lisa and Holly shared a fast glance, with the older woman straightening and inclining her head. "Sure thing."

With the two women following the young boy into the living room, Steve risked another glance over at Paul, clearing his throat and letting the corner of his mouth curl again.

"How about you, Mr. Martin? You interested in race cars as well?"

The older man let out a bark of laughter, shaking his head minutely. Instead, he pointed over to the breakfast bar.

"My interest is piqued by something a little stronger sitting on the counter there."

Following his gaze to where two bottles of wine and a single bottle of Irish whiskey sat upon the counter, Steve let out a breathy laugh.

"Gotcha," he replied, hooking Paul a thumbs-up before heading over and taking out two low-ball glasses from a cabinet in the kitchen. The two men indulged in the whiskey, a last-minute buy that had come as a recommendation from Pietro prior to the day. It could be used to steady the nerves and break the ice...or to lament later on if things went poorly. Steve took it as a good sign that he and Holly's father could indulge in it before dinner, commenting on the warmth of it as it went down, the pair of them trading off opinions of different brands they'd experienced in the past as the remaining foods were finished and dished up.

Twenty minutes after their arrival, Darcy buzzed through the intercom, Pietro in tow as they made their way up to the apartment. Another round of introductions were had, with Jamie blushing even more profusely when the pretty, bespectacled brunette said hello to him. The silver-haired young man with her greeted Steve with a hug, a plastic grocery bag in his hand and his eyes lighting up when he spotted the whiskey bottle. Another round was had by the fellows, Pietro included, before the dinner dishes were brought to the table. With the turkey already carved up and plated, the gathered company took their seats, a short blessing spoken by Lisa and murmured replies given in good nature.

The meal passed easily enough, just as the food was. Jamie had take point a few times, commenting on how his teachers had told him all about the history of the day (the adults in the room smiling at the cleaned-up version that he was taught) and how they were told to think about what they were thankful for. He, for one, was thankful for his toys and his daddy, and all his aunts and uncles. Prompting the others to tell what they were thankful for, he pointed to each one to take their turn to speak. Darcy began, with being thankful for good year thus far at work and the opportunity to grab the last pumpkin pie in the store before arriving. Pietro was glad to have the day off to be with his girl—eliciting mocking coos from Steve and Holly, and making Jamie frown a bit—and for his sister. Paul and Lisa expressed thanks for being able to arrive safely in D.C. to be with their daughter, a sentiment Steve shared as well (Pietro and Darcy getting their own back at that moment). When Holly's turn came, she could only think that she was grateful for the chance to be with them all, with people she loved and cared for, her hand lacing with Steve's and squeezing as she did so. He squeezed back gently, the conversation flowing on to other things.

Soon enough, the plates before those gathered were emptied of their contents, the bowls and containers set among them bereft. All of them seemed to sag into their seats, full and pleased with it.

"Hey, look at that. No screaming matches, no flung food. Easily the most civilized Thanksgiving I've ever been to," Darcy remarked quietly, leaning back against her chair and swirling the wine in her glass with an air of bewildered satisfaction. The others at the table shared laughs at her pronouncement, the elders sharing a curious glance but not pushing. Recalling another detail, she made a tipping motion with her head to the breakfast bar, where the remaining treats of the afternoon were sitting. "And bonus pie on top of it all."

Holly stifled an amused snort. "Thanks for swinging by the store for that."

The bespectacled brunette shot her a wink and a smirk. "No problem, _chica_."

Pietro leaned back in his chair, looping one arm over his girl's shoulders and letting the corner of his mouth curl.

"Is not bad, in comparison," he pronounced, the Eastern European accent not lost after his years in the states. When prompted to explain his opinion, he shrugged, silver-dyed hair shifting. "We have something like it back home. _Do_ _ż_ _ynki_ is closest to this in Sokovia, and we celebrate in August. All about the harvest, sharing it with others, and for good luck for the next year's. My sister and I still celebrate here, when we get the chance."

The corner of Steve's mouth curled at that. "I'm guessing that's why you brought the wreath over."

Pietro met his gaze, letting out a low chuckle when he glanced over to where the wreath had been set. It had been in the grocery bag with the pie, brought out with a flourish before dinner had started. Rather than the traditional ones to be seen during the Advent season, he had opted to find something made of corn husks and maple leaves, odd corn cobs tucked in as well. It wasn't quite what he was used to seeing, but he had thought it would be suitable for the holiday they were partaking in that day.

"Yes," said the younger man, holding a hand up in false placation. "Not celebrating Christmas early, I promise."

"Or Hanukkah," Darcy retorted, knowing her boyfriend's background and smiling up at him. The arm he had slung over her shoulder drew her in a little closer, his fingers lightly dancing back and forth over her shoulder. Lisa smiled from her side of the table, enjoying the young man's candid nature.

"And where is your sister today?" she asked, her own gaze turning a tad wistful. Holly felt it too when she looked at her mother and father; they were glad to be with her that day, but that did not mean they did not miss their other children, or grandchildren, at that moment. It was clear that there was commiseration there for Pietro as well.

"With her boyfriend and his family," he explained, letting out a small sigh. Holly and Steve shared a glance; they had heard from both the direct source and his girlfriend how often Wanda was away from her twin brother, when she was traveling for her job. Her traveling for one of the holidays that emphasized family togetherness was hard on Pietro, and it was clear to see from his expression. Darcy reached over, her hand resting on his knee and providing him a measure of comfort. Lifting a shoulder, he continued, "The parents live in California, so that's where they are."

Paul inclined his chin at that, his dark gaze moving over to his daughter's work friend. "What about you, Darcy? Your family is..."

Darcy stiffened in her seat then, and Holly bit her lip, the hand encased in Steve's suddenly going sweaty.

"Not too big on holidays," she summed up succinctly, her vagueness deliberate as she took another deep swallow of wine. Her grin had a touch of brittleness in it when she set her glass down, but it remained. "So here I am."

"We're glad you are," Holly said carefully, meeting her friend's gaze then and keeping a grin in place.

"Uh-huh," Jamie agreed then, smiling toothily at Darcy. His admiration for Holly's friend had become more and more apparent as the day had gone on, with him remarking upon how pretty she was, and how nice, too. Darcy thought he was the sweetest little bugger, and Pietro smiled with a bit of strain. For his part, Steve couldn't help but think his son's antics of attempting to sit by her at dinner or offering her his best toys were cute, and Holly thought it was the most adorable thing ever. Paul and Lisa watched it with amusement, enchanted by the little guy just as their daughter thought they would be.

Buzzing erupted in Steve's pocket then, and he jumped in his seat, not expecting it. Holly pressed her free hand over her mouth to stem her laughter, the other occupants of the table chuckling as pink tinged his cheeks.

"Sorry, one minute," he murmured, fetching up the device and excusing himself from the table. Pressing at the screen and bringing it up to his ear, his moth curled at thin air as he walked away from the table. "Hello? Hi, Harry. Happy Thanksgiving. How's Amanda?"

Upon hearing the names, rigidity pushed its way up Holly's back, the grin on her face turning a bit forced. Darcy's face screwed up in confusion, along with Pietro's, while her parents sported concern on their features. Only Jamie remained oblivious to the slight change in temper at hand, and Holly was determined to keep it that way.

"Jamie's grandparents," she told the others in a low voice, nodding to where Steve was now standing in the kitchen. Turning to Jamie, she reached across the table and patted his hand fondly as he grinned up at her. "Probably want to say happy Thanksgiving to you, bud, once they're done with your dad."

The little boy dipped his chin happily. "Grandpa Harry says we're close to doing it right, but I don't know what he means."

Holly's smile curved a little higher, but only until her boyfriend's voice hit her ears. The tone had turned confused, and a little terse, early indicators that he was not pleased with the direction the conversation was taking. Unable to help herself (along with the rest of the table's occupants), she turned in her chair, watching as Steve's brow screwed up.

"Yes, she's here. Why wouldn't she be?" he asked, and Holly's gut twisted. There was no doubt in her mind about who _she_ was, and dread began to truly fill her. Glancing over at her parents, she caught Lisa biting her lip, and the red of indignation coloring her dad's face. It was the same shade invading Steve's cheeks, too, and his eyes narrowed. "Harry, this...Mr. Carter, now is not the time or place for this conversation."

He paused, clearly listening to his ex father-in-law's remonstrance, and the set of his jaw tightened.

"Frankly, half past never would be the best bet on that. And you know exactly what your approval will mean at this point." Blue eyes turned icy in an instant, and he stood ramrod straight. His lower jaw twitched as the voice on the other end garbled on, raising in pitch so that Holly could barely hear it herself. Eventually, the voice stopped, and Steve cleared his throat to speak again. "Fine, I can live with that. Now, would you like to speak to your grandson or not?"

Another response, and true hurt flashed over Steve's face then, like he'd been punched in the stomach. He sounded about as winded, too, when he spoke once more.

"Your choice, sir. Good-bye," he said, lowering the device from his ear and swiping the end call button on the screen.

"Ah, there it is," Darcy whispered, and Holly felt a flush slide down to the twist in her gut, her lip bitten even harder as she turned to focus on her plate. Fingers curled around the fork still sitting there, pushing idly at the debris of what she'd ingested, the meal a lump in her stomach now.

This was her fault, her brain chided her, her fault for being there and driving a wedge between Steve and the Carters. Her fault for depriving Jamie of hearing from his only living grandparents...

"Daddy?" Jamie asked, his little face pulled into a confused expression as he looked around the table, when he saw Holly sadly poking at the pieces of food with her fork. Steve came back to the table, his own face screwing up with something like a brittle, false pleasantness.

"Your grandpa had to go, bud," he told him, keeping his tone as even as possible. His eyes widened slightly, the joviality clearly forced. "He said that he and Grandma love you and will call again soon."

The warmth in Jamie's brown eyes dulled, and he sank back against his chair, legs swinging a little as he looked down at his hands in his lap.

"No, he didn't. You're lying," he said, clarity in his tone as he looked up at his father again. Steve, having no defense against it, sank into his chair with a sigh. The little boy shook his head, blinking rapidly. "Grandpa was being mean."

"James..." Steve tried to speak, his palms flat on the table top as his gaze flicked from his son to his girlfriend. He then glanced around to everyone else still at the table, various degrees of sympathy and indignation on his behalf on their faces. Reaching out, he put his palm on Jamie's shoulder, murmuring quietly, "I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry, too," Holly whispered, sorrow and guilt lacing her tone heavily. At once, Steve's free hand curled around her fingers, the grip tightening even as she rose from her seat. Gently, she pulled out of his grip, fetching up her plate and glass, bidding the others to bring theirs in to the kitchen when they were done so she could wash them. Determinedly keeping her back to the others, she started filling the basins of the sink, the running water affording the others to start limping through a new conversation.

Lisa, taking it upon herself to shield her daughter, went to the breakfast bar and started to cut up the pie, paper dessert plates passed to the others as she bid them all to head into the living room. The football game being held that afternoon was switched on, and Paul pointedly began to lecture Pietro about the sport, answering his questions as best he could. Holly merely scrubbed and rinsed whatever was left at the side of the basin, her mother's soothing palm rubbing against her back for a few moments. When that failed to get a response, the older woman sighed, telling her that she would be in the living room if she needed any help.

Steve, who had been occupied with assuring Jamie that his grandfather still loved him, but was just having a few problems that day, eventually came into the room. He started moving the leftovers either into plastic containers or scraping debris into the garbage, working silently along with his girlfriend and trying desperately to catch her eye. A few times, when he handed her a plate or silverware, he opened his mouth to say something, anything, but she averted her gaze each time. She knew he would apologize to her, too, but she didn't want to hear it. He had nothing to apologize for; if anything, she did, for being the subject that forced the altercation to happen with him and Mr. Carter.

Finally, when the last plate was scrubbed and placed in the dishwasher for a sanitizing load, she unplugged the drains in the basins, wiping her hands on a nearby towel before bracing them along the counter's edge. It was then that Steve's palms curled around her shoulders, gently drawing her back to rest against him.

"Holly—"

She turned her head to the side, letting out a fast breath and cutting him off. "So I suppose the verdict came in then."

Unable to deny it, Steve let his head hang a little, the burden on his shoulders causing them to droop slightly.

"Yes. Despite Sharon being on our side." His head came up again, palm sliding down to her waist and thumbs brushing against the fabric of her dress. "He...I was married to his daughter, and...even though she's not here, he thinks..."

Holly stared straight ahead, daring to voice the truth. "He thinks that it's being unfaithful to her, you being with me. Probably had a few words about me in general, too."

"Yes," Steve let fall from his lips, hastening to speak when her own shoulders drooped. "That's not how I feel, though."

"Maybe. Maybe I should've, I could've..." she trailed off, uncertain of what she could have done to preempt the distant man's wrath. She had figured that Peggy's parents would not like her on principle, but perhaps she could have reached out in some way to assure them that she was not taking her place. It could have prevented the fall-out, possibly. Dark eyes shone with unshed tears as she considered the other side of what had happened. "And Jamie, how could I have done this to him?"

Steve moved quickly then, turning her in his arms to face him. His eyes riveted to hers, absolute sincerity in them as his baritone voice bade her to listen.

"You didn't do anything, or cause this. It's his deal, not yours or mine. Okay?" When she gave a minute shrug, he shook his head at her, dismissing it. Wrapping his arms around her, he drew her into a tight embrace, his tone lowered just for her as he bent his head close to her ear. "I love you. That doesn't erase anything, or make what used to be any less. It just makes things now, and hopefully in the future, better. And Jamie...he doesn't blame you for this at all. Like I don't. I promise."

That was true. When he had taken Jamie aside earlier, explained to him that Grandpa Harry was just having trouble understanding what was going on and that he was just not a fan of the changes that had happened in their lives, the little guy had noted that the only change that had happened was Holly. The young boy couldn't understand why his grandfather would be mean to Holly, someone he'd never met, someone who he personally really liked. His anger was directed at the older man, but even so, Steve cautioned him to have patience. There was a lot about their lives that needed it, and Grandpa Harry would need it, too. Just because he had had a bad moment did not mean Jamie could the next time they spoke. Securing his son's promise to just be the good boy he knew he was, Steve let him go to play, but not before his son hugged him fiercely and told him to hug Holly for him, too.

He really was a good, smart kid, one that Peggy would be proud of. One he knew he was proud of, and Holly as well.

In the present moment, Holly let out a soft snicker against his shoulder. "Smooth."

Grateful to hear something like amusement in her voice, he dared to joke, "Hey, I may be a crusty old man, but I know a thing or two."

Her arms finally looped around him then, holding him just as closely as he held her. Sniffing hard, she eventually pulled back, the red rimming her eyes at odds with the wan smile she gave him.

"Not crusty and not old," she contradicted, a fast breath shooting out of her nose when he smirked. The grin fell away as gravity invaded her expression once more. "You're sure?"

He nodded, loosening his hold around her and stepping back.

"Absolutely," he proclaimed, cupping her cheek briefly and grinning when she leaned into the touch. Going to the counter, he pulled a clean glass from the cabinet and uncorked the remaining bottle of red wine, pouring her a hearty amount. Handing it to her, he bodily pivoted her to the arch. "Here, take this, go be with your mom and the others for awhile."

Dipping her chin, she paused, stretching up to give him a quick, strong kiss. Tenderly, her fingers combed over the part in his hair, a final peck given before she left the kitchen. Letting out a slow breath, Steve leaned a hip against the counter, crossing his arms and feeling the churn in his gut finally start to settle. The residual hurt and anger laced the edges of his mind, but he resolved to deal with those at another time. His ex father-in-law had no right to disparage him, his choices in life, or the woman he chose to be his companion. His only regret was that the older man was willing to let the matter extend to his grandson, brusquely brushing away the opportunity to speak with him while Holly was still in their company. That was his choice, and while it sat ill with Steve, he would not let it sway him.

"Steven."

Surprise rippled up Steve's spine then, and he spun to see Paul leaning against the opposite side of the breakfast bar, wedged between the two high stools pushed in along it. Swallowing against his shock, he attempted to smooth out his startled look with a grin.

"H-hey, Mr. Martin. Didn't, uh, see you there," he drawled, stepping up the bar on his side.

"I know," Paul said, the weight in his words hitting Steve hard then. Wondering just exactly how much he'd seen and heard of the conversation he just had, he barely quelled the ire that rose from being spied upon when he shook his head. Leaning forward on his elbows, Paul's dark irises glinted in the light, the contemplative nature of his form lacing through him. "For the record, even if you don't have that man's approval, you have mine. Just keep treating my girl right, and we'll have no issues."

His eyebrows inclined pointedly, and Steve solemnly nodded.

"Alright." Clearing his throat, he scratched at the back of his neck and continued, "You are geographically closer, and Holly told me you do hunt."

The dark-haired man chortled, reaching for the whiskey once more and pouring himself just a touch more in his glass.

"Smart man," he noted, eyes crinkling with amusement as he looked up at Steve. Taking a low sip, he lowered his glass and tilted his head to the side. "Come to the living room, Steven. We have to teach your boy and that silver-headed menace how to play a proper game of Go Fish."

Understanding that Paul had likely been sent by Jamie to recruit him for the game, Steve could not help but laugh a little, the tension still inside bleeding out little by little.

"Okay." Following the older man back into the living room, he soon found himself sitting cross-legged on the floor, his back resting against Holly's legs as Paul taught his boy how to deal him in. Fingers brushed gently along the side of his neck as his girlfriend engaged in conversation with her friend and her mother, the unpleasantness of the afternoon forgotten as he considered his hand. There was more to be thankful for than not, and that was what the focus would be on, he decided privately, his boy's delighted giggles echoing around them as he asked for a five. Giving up the card, he let the happiness fill him again. And he knew Holly had returned to that state as well when she leaned to look over his shoulder, a discreet peck dropped on his temple when he jokingly grumbled at her to stop helping his boy cheat.

* * *

 **A/N:**...Hey, everybody. Sorry for letting so much time slip by between chapters...again. It's been...it's been a long month. As I stated in the author's note of _Growing Pains_ , my great-grandfather passed away at 106, then my uncle got sick and had to have surgery. Plus, I have been interviewing like crazy for several jobs. Add in work and visiting my family, and there went my time. I will certainly try harder for the future, truly, to get stuff out in a more timely fashion.

Even so, I think the material for this chapter should tide you over. Yay for Thanksgiving and family togetherness. And unfortunately, for family strife to be aired. Whoo...still, it does resolve...in a way.

 _Do_ _ż_ _ynki_ is a Slavic harvest festival, and sort of like a Thanksgiving in the countries that celebrate it. Figured I would let Pietro touch upon it in some way.

Like I said, I'll try and be more timely with the next post. In the meantime, I did put up a new chapter in _Growing Pains_. If you haven't read it yet, check it out!

I own nothing from the MCU, nor do I own any other pop culture references made in the text (Marvel comics, etc.).

Thanks for reading, please review, and I'll see you all for the next one!


	14. Chapter 14

December rolled over Washington, D.C., the licks of winter and cold seeping into the valley and crusting the ground with frost. Given where the city was, heavy snows were not common, but a few days saw dustings, erected Christmas trees and lights along lampposts gilded with an almost fairy-tale like edge. The promise held by the Advent season, by the approaching new year, was in the air, and it was a promise that many could not wait to indulge in.

Such was the case with Holly Martin and Steve Rogers, as they had promises of their own to meet for those holidays.

A muffled thump and a light "ow" roused Steve from his sleep early on the twenty-third, eyes snapping open before he could remind himself that he was home and safe, with his son down the hall and his girlfriend with him, too. His girlfriend, who was apparently snatching up a backpack with an annoyed expression as she double-checked its contents. He let out a slow breath through his nose, noting her rising anxiousness as she went through her things, and lit upon a way to halt it.

"Baby, come back to bed," Steve groaned, propping himself up on his elbow. When Holly did no more than glance over her shoulder at him, he dared to make a sad face and patted the overturned sheets beside him. No matter that she was already fully dressed for the day, he still wanted her beside him. "Your side's getting cold."

"Can't, hon," she retorted, her lips pulling into a tired grin even as her brow remained furrowed. Pulling out the suitcase she had stashed by his dresser, she shot him another fast look and murmured, "Thanks to your shenanigans last night, I've only got thirty minutes before my cab shows up to make sure everything's ready."

The blond man let out a long-suffering sigh, pushing back his own covers and rising from the bed. Holly's back remained to him, her concentration fully on inspecting the contents of her suitcase.

"Plenty of time to come here." Recalling the playful accusation she made, he snorted and shook his head. Pointedly grabbing up his boxers from the floor and slipping them back on, he muttered, "And _my_ shenanigans? Missy, you were an instigator, too, as well as a willing participant."

The brunette woman let out a scoffing chuckle. "I'm not the one who—Steven!"

Her response was cut off by her boyfriend sweeping her up, holding her close and walking them both back to the bed. He sat down on the edge of it, a smug look flashing over his face as he did so.

"Sit for a second, sweetheart, before you run off," he admonished her, arms wrapping tightly around her waist as he settled her in his lap. Squirming slightly, Holly relented when she spotted the sincerity in his eyes, his playful grin fading moment by moment. Sighing, she stilled in his lap, her own arms looping around his shoulders and her face pressing into the crook of his neck. For his part, Steve let out a slow breath, fingers tracing up and down her back as he inhaled the scent of her shampoo. "'M gonna miss you."

She inhaled at that, a pang reverberating through her chest. She had a flight scheduled in just a few short hours, to head back to her home state. She had given her word that she would be home for that holiday, something she reiterated to her parents before they had returned home themselves after Thanksgiving. The evening before, she had spent at Steve's, exchanging presents with him and Jamie and her bags stowed in his room. A good night's sleep was also on the agenda, but between her and Steve acting upon their feelings at the impending separation, that was not had until later in the night.

All in all, she felt the same as he.

"I'll miss you, too. You and Jamie," she said, nuzzling at the side of his neck. Planting a feather-light kiss there, she hastened to reassure him, "It'll only be a week."

"Eight days," he corrected a tad sullenly. He knew he was being a bit churlish, but to that point, Steve and Holly had not been separated for long. Not even when they were merely neighbors and friends. Yes, they were both grown adults and would be able to survive the situation, but he couldn't deny that he would miss her presence, miss her being around for the true holiday. Minnesota seemed like it was halfway across the world at that point, despite him knowing better.

"Still a week by Beatles' standards," she joked, earning a small smile from him. Cupping his cheek, she bumped the end of his nose with her own. "You know how to reach me, and I'll definitely be calling you."

"Good idea. I don't think you'll be able to get by too long without me," he remarked, humor flooding his irises as the corner of his mouth quirked higher.

Holly's eyebrows inclined a fraction. "Says the man who won't even let me pack properly without getting some cuddles."

"Damn straight," Steve confirmed, leaning forward and planting a solid kiss on her lips as she giggled. When he pulled back, he rested his forehead against hers, his hold on her tightening minutely. Under his breath, he crooned, "Eight days."

It wasn't that long, certainly not as long as his deployment was back in the day, but that experience reminded him how much he hated being separated from those he loved. It was awful to be gone from Peggy's side for so long, and Holly being away would just reaffirm his distaste for it. Still, she had made the commitment to go home for Christmas months ago, well before they were ever official, and he knew she would honor her commitment. He wouldn't want anything less, frankly.

"Mm-hmm," she confirmed, another light peck pressed to his lips before she pulled back. Swinging her legs away and standing again, she took his hand in hers. Tugging lightly and glancing down at her opened suitcase, she asked, "Help me?"

Off her hopeful expression, he found himself nodding.

"Yes, ma'am."

It was quick work, helping her check her bag and make sure she had everything packed (her family's gifts were shipped ahead of time, waiting at her parents' house). However, that wasn't to say that they weren't able to get in a few squeezes and pecks, each of them getting their fill of touching one another before she had to go. The clock was running down, though, and soon enough Steve was pulling on a pair of sweatpants and a heavy sweatshirt, letting Holly precede him out the bedroom to the main living space and detouring to the other door along the wall. A few quiet knocks rebounded, yielding no response.

"C'mon bud, time to get up," he said quietly, opening the door. The lump under the superhero comforter turned and groaned, but otherwise did not do anything. Silently snickering, Steve shook his head, stepping further into Jamie's room. Bending, he laid a palm on his boy's shoulder through the sheets, gently patting. Softly, he implored the little guy, "Please get up. Holly has to go, so you gotta say good-bye now."

The comforter came down then, Jamie sleepily rubbing at his eyes as he started to get out of bed. His new pajamas, sporting flannel and moose all over it, were in disarray, but the small boy did not care in the slightest. Instead, he took his father's hand as he led him out the door, following his instructions to put on his shoes and walk with Holly to the main lobby. Already bundled in a thick coat and even a scarf—her gloves tucked away in a pocket with her keys—Holly shifted her suitcase so that she could take Jamie's other hand, his arms swinging his and the adults' hands as they went. Once down in the lobby, Holly put her things to one side, kneeling down to give the child one more hug before her cab arrived. Jamie complied easily, arms around her neck and his little voice crooning his good-byes.

"You should stay for Christmas," he told her, pulling back slightly and sporting a sorrowful expression. Holly felt another flare of guilt and sadness kick up in her gut then, and she flicked a fast glance to the boy's father. It was clear he felt the same way, but he merely crossed his arms and stood back, letting her have the moment with his son. Slowly, she shook her head, fingers brushing over the sleeves of his rumpled pajamas.

"That's why I came over and we did presents last night," she reminded him sweetly. It was true; after she had finished with work, she had gone home and bundled her things into the Rogers apartment, along with the gifts she had purchased for them. Jamie had received a new set of toy cars and even a set of knock-off lightsabers from her, and was joyfully playing with them while she gave Steve his presents. Among a few other things, Steve enjoyed his new art book featuring the works of the Italian Renaissance as she cuddled up beside him, fingering the star pendant he'd gotten her as Elf played in the background. The take-out dinner of pizza completed the experience for the boy, before it morphed into bedtime for them all (the grown-ups adapting to a looser interpretation of the word). Coming back to the moment, she reached up and started to fix Jamie's skewed hair, brushing the soft, blond strands and attempting to grin. "Because I am going to see my family, like they saw us for Thanksgiving. If you miss me while I'm gone, you can play with the cars I got you. Then I'll be with you, sort of. Or read your new book."

Now reminded of another present, a Berenstein Bears book that she had declared he would like, he started to smile a little.

"Okay," he murmured, his little arms going around her again and his face burrowing against her shoulder as she hugged him back. "Bye-bye, Holly."

Before he pulled out of her arms, the little boy turned his head and gave her a kiss on the cheek. Holly blinked, her jaw dropping a little. Until then, the most affection Jamie had ever displayed with her was a hug. Her smile grew brighter despite having to leave, and she peered over his head to his father. Steve, too, looked surprised, but very pleased with his boy's treatment of her. Warmth swelled in both their hearts as she leaned forward, planting a peck in the boy's hair.

"Bye, sweetie," she said, even happier when he smiled back and didn't scrub her kiss away. Her smartphone buzzed then, alerting her to the arrival of her Lyft. Rising from her crouch, she went to Steve then, pulled into his embrace and standing on her tiptoes to give him a kiss, too. Against his lips, she breathed, "Bye, love."

"Bye. Call me when you land, okay?" he pleaded, seriousness shadowing his blue irises.

"I will, and you call me once you've made it to New York," she replied, reminding him of the trip he and his boy would be taking soon after she was in the air. His palms slid up and down her back as he dipped his chin.

"I will, promise," he swore, one last kiss exchanged as the horn of the Lyft car outside resounded. Taking that as her cue, Holly reluctantly slid out of his arms, her backpack secured and her suitcase handle gripped hard. A final nod to both the Rogers boys, and she was out the door, jogging to car and waving her farewells as the pair watched her through the glass doors and wall. They returned her waves even as she climbed in, Jamie swung up into his father's arms and held aloft as she was spirited away.

The two let out simultaneous soft sighs, and then Steve pivoted away from the glass, taking them both up the steps and back into their home. They had things to see to as well, before their own ride showed up. The strands of lights around the windows in the living room were shut off, along with those strung up in the big tree, the remaining presents gathered and situated for departure. It took some finagling and negotiation for Jamie to get dressed to leave, too, but Steve had managed it just minutes before another text he was waiting for blipped upon his phone.

Soon enough, after access was granted at the main entrance, light knocks came at the panels of the front door, a familiar redhead poking her head through as she cracked it open.

"Ready to go, Rogers?" Natasha called out, grinning broadly as she watched her friend struggle to get his boy into his thick winter coat. (New York City would be colder than D.C. was, but he had trouble convincing Jamie of the need for warmer winter wear.) Steve curled up the corner of his mouth when he finally got the jacket zipped up on his son, his own wool coat shrugged on as he lifted a shoulder.

"Suppose so, Romanoff," he told her, giving the apartment a final cursory check. They had everything they needed for their own road trip out of the District, and he patted his pockets. Keys, wallet, and phone were all tucked in, and he gave another nod. Natasha came fully into the apartment then, bobbing her own chin. A knit cap encapsulated her head, her permanent-straightened locks framing her face perfectly beneath it. Adjusting her own ski jacket, she tilted her head to the side, her focus falling onto the little guy tugging at his coat.

"How about you, Jamie?" she asked, drawing his attention fully.

"Yeah! Let's go, Auntie Nat!" the blond boy cried happily, his dismal mood after Holly's departure lifting somewhat. Smirking down at him, she ruffled his hair and grabbed up one of the boxes laden with presents, Jamie walking beside her with his travel backpack dangling from his arm. Grabbing the last box and the big suitcase, Steve chuckled and shook his head, following them out of the apartment to lock up.

As per their agreement, Natasha would drive them up to New York, all of them set on celebrating Christmas at the Barnes residence in Brooklyn. It made more sense than taking separate vehicles when they were all going to the same place, she reasoned, not quite able to hide the smudge of pinkness along her cheeks as she said so. In the moment, Steve had let her blush go without comment; the fact that she had, since Halloween, been making frequent trips to that particular destination had not gone unnoticed by him. He hadn't doubted that she would've found her way up there for the holiday, regardless of the travel plans. Still, it was good to spend time with one of his oldest friends, five hours to be passed as they wound their way north.

Partway through the drive, after several car games and Jamie's storytelling about school and his friends had dwindled, the occupants of the sleek, black vehicle were pleased to make a stop. The parking lot of the fast food restaurant was busy, but they had little issue getting inside and getting a few meals ordered. Before Natasha even had the chance to reach into her purse, Steve was proffering his credit card to the cashier, shooting her a fast look.

"I'll get this," he told her. As she opened her mouth to protest, he shook his head, Jamie imitating him and giggling. "No, you're driving; I can buy us all lunch."

"Ah, yes, because fast food is so expensive," she teased, leaning a hip against the counter as the cashier swiped the card and produced the paper slip to sign. As cups were handed over and they moved to the side to wait, she muttered, "We were all going the same place, anyway."

"Literally," he replied, dipping his chin in affirmation. Catching his raised eyebrows, she let out a fast snort.

"Hey, I've had a standing invitation with the Barnes' for years, too. Don't act like you're the only one," she riposted, moving over to the drink dispenser and filling her cup. Jamie nudged her leg, asking her for juice in his, and she obliged, Steve moving unconsciously towards the Dr. Pepper dispenser.

"True. But I'm not going in the same capacity as you are," he stated, a knowing glint in his gaze.

At that, Natasha's eyes lit up. Ever since Jamie's birthday, she and Bucky had been more and more in each other's company. The night she'd spent with him at Sam's had devolved into laying on the guest bed with him, the pair going back and forth about everything and nothing into the early morning hours. With her heart emerging from a battered state after Steve's rejection, she was surprised to find it open and willing to Bucky. He was patient with her as she hemmed and hawed over what they had, keeping himself open to her as well. Nearly two months on, it had become far more than she could have imagined over a year ago.

"You're not wrong," she nearly whispered, plucking up a straw for her cup. Unwrapping it and dipping it into the drink, she smiled and shook her head. "Who would have thought, right?"

"Actually, I thought that years ago," Steve confessed, meeting her gaze almost sheepishly. The flirting and jibes between Bucky and Nat over the years reminded him a lot of his own with Peggy, and Holly as well. When she blinked in surprise at him, he cupped a hand in the air. "Took you a little while."

Natasha rolled her eyes, letting out a soft laugh as the number for their food was called. "Same to you, pal."

Steve merely grinned, gathering up their food and pleased to have finally returned to an equilibrium with Natasha. The remainder of the meal passed well enough, and then they were all back on the road again. After a single stop at another gas station (with Jamie narrowly avoiding an accident as his father practically ran him into the bathroom), they proceeded straight into the city, Natasha navigated the streets with ease. A light snowfall drifted down just as she pulled into the narrow driveway beside the Barnes' home. After having lived for years in an apartment in the concrete jungle, George and Winifred Barnes had finally found a house to their liking, moving there when Bucky's sister Rebecca was still in high school. Now, the occupants of the house were limited to the mister and missus, as well as their brooding son.

Bucky greeted them at the door, his sweatshirt pushed up at the elbows and his metal arm muted by the dimming light outside. Ushering them all in, the brunet man gave Steve a hearty, one-armed hug, favoring his right side a little. His body was still adjusting, bit by bit, and sometimes the left side needed a bit of a break. Jamie was swept up into a bear hug, the little boy giggling madly as his adoptive uncle swung him around once. The little guy eagerly stampeded down the hall to where Winifred and George were, ornaments being hanged upon the tree and a request to help flying out of his mouth. For Natasha, though, he reserved a special smile and warm embrace, one that Steve wisely absented himself from viewing. Instead, he went back to the car to grab up the boxed presents and the suitcase, towing all into the house before going into the living room to help.

The afternoon bled into the evening, the Rogers boys enveloped by the Barnes members remaining in the house. Christmas Day would see Rebecca and her family coming to celebrate, along with Bucky's brother Bram. The other two would be going to their wives' family gatherings, but their love was sent forward. As it was, Steve and Jamie retired to the guest room they would share, each looking forward to a Christmas Eve in Brooklyn.

From the afternoon through the evening, Steve and Holly maintained contact. As promised, she'd called when she landed in Minnesota, crowing happily over speakerphone while Steve and Jamie were still riding up with Natasha, and he'd called her back as soon as he'd stashed everything in the spare room in the house. Texts and pictures were shot back and forth, his girlfriend so pleased to see pictures of Jamie helping set up the tree and playing in the snowy yard. Steve returned that Holly looked well in the sweater her mother had gifted her early—one with C-3PO sporting a Santa hat, and part of an ongoing tradition—and that he thought of her when he had joined the Barnes family and Natasha to watch a couple of old Christmas specials. And, once Jamie and the rest of the house were all tucked into bed (Nat boldly breezing past the door and stepping into Bucky's room, light laughter muffled by the door when it was shut behind her), they sent each other good-night audio files, the blond man sighing as he rolled over on the full-sized mattress and attempted to get to sleep. The last sight he remembered was seeing Jamie on the small mattress Winifred had found for him, curled up in the sheets and holding an old, masked teddy bear tightly.

' _Sweet kid_ ,' he proclaimed silently as he slipped into sleep. ' _My_ _sweet kid_.'

Christmas Eve saw the little gathering in the house settling into easy camaraderie. After his mother's death, two years prior to Peggy's, Winifred and George had become surrogate parents to him in their own way. And they were always pleased to embrace another grandchild into their fold. Jamie, after the sting and rejection of his maternal grandpa—Harry Carter had not called since Thanksgiving, and Amanda had only been able to get in touch sporadically—took to Winifred's hugs and George's high fives, basking in the genuine warmth they offered. For that, Steve could not have been more grateful, or more disappointed in his ex in-laws. It was their loss, he noted privately, watching as Jamie helped Mrs. Barnes plate cookies she had made for the day.

Another inch or two of snow had accumulated in the night, and so he was out with his boy for a good portion of the day, Bucky and Natasha following them from the front yard to the park just a few blocks over. Snowballs were flung, forts were built, and a few snowmen looked down upon them as the little guy insisted on capping the day with snow angels. Just like the one from the Christmas story, he'd murmured, and Steve happily obliged him, then. Upon the walk back, as he carried his boy (all tuckered out from playing), he confirmed with Nat and Buck about attending services in the morning with the parents, the heat of the house enveloping them just as Winifred announced it was time for dinner.

That day, his phone had gone silent after a quick back-and-forth with Holly, with promises to call before it got too late in the evening. After dinner had gone by, along with another round of Christmas specials, Steve's gaze darted to his phone on and off, from it was perched on the arm of his chair as he sat in the living room. Jamie was with George in the den, the pair of them taking turns driving a remote-controlled car the older man had found buried in the attic. With Winifred occupied with keeping an eye on them, it left the three remaining adults at loose ends. And those loose ends involved watching a playback of one of the football games from the previous week, prepping for the game that would be happening the next day.

Well, some of them were prepping for it, Bucky mused in good humor, darting a look over to his friend as he eyed up his phone again.

"You keep staring at the phone like that, it's gonna combust," Bucky grunted, the corner of his mouth curving as the blond fellow picked up the phone.

"Shuddup," Steve muttered out the side of his mouth, dropping the device in his lap and folding his arms. Shrugging, he mumbled, "She said she would call after dinner, don't wanna miss it."

"Not likely," Bucky retorted, a smirk stretching his lips as he leaned back in his seat. Cupping a hand in the air, he stated, "Besides, she's what, an hour behind us right now? Cut her some slack, antsy."

Steve arched an eyebrow at him. "Says the pot to the kettle."

Bucky snorted, his expression remaining passive. "Hey, I'm cool as a cucumber over here. I've got my girl."

The blond man directed his gaze onto the woman in question. Natasha, after assisting with Winifred to prepare for the next day along with the current evening, and after putting in a full day of playing with Jamie, had declared herself beat mere minutes before. At that moment, she was asleep, stretching across the sofa and resting against Bucky. At the declaration, Steve tilted his head.

"Made it official, then?"

"Not like she's wearing my letterman's jacket or anything, but…" Bucky trailed off, glancing down at the woman nestled into his side. Natasha was dozing against him, lips parted as she snored lightly and her free hand curled along the edge of his sweater. For the first time in a long while, she looked truly relaxed, and for that Steve was thankful. Bucky, too, looked at ease, his arm curling around her and keeping her close. With a small grin, he murmured softly, "We know what we have."

The blond man leaned back in his chair, pleased for his two friends finding joy in one another.

"Good. I'm glad for both of you, Buck," he intoned, the sincerity in his voice unmistakeable. "Really."

The brunet man dipped his chin, smiling to himself as the game on the television played on. Within a few seconds, a buzz and a chime cut through the air. Nat barely stirred at the sound, but Steve jumped a little, fetching up the phone that had since slid off his leg and onto the floor. Cursing under his breath, he grabbed up the device, swiping through and unlocking it to read the message that had just come in.

 _ **Just got out of service for tonight; it ran longer than we thought it would. I'll call you soon! Love you!**_

A broad, relieved grin tugged at his lips, and he exhaled softly. Tapping a return message along with his own I-love-you to Holly, he looked up in time to see that his best friend was examining him, a playful glint in his gaze. Instead of teasing him, though, he merely shrugged.

"Glad for you, too, Steve," Bucky said, his attention turning back to the television screen.

 **xXxXxXx**

The Rogers boys stayed with the Barnes' household for two more days, Steve and Natasha needing to get back down to D.C. for work soon enough. After packing up all the presents they had received (and a long good-bye had on the doorstep between Bucky and Nat while Steve buckled Jamie into his car seat), the trio found their way back home. Natasha had left much as she had arrived: unobtrusively and with friendly admonitions to get together sometime soon outside of work. Acceding to that, Steve only dropped the happy look from his face after getting Jamie down for a nap and stretching across his wide, empty bed. It seemed those remaining days that Holly was gone had stretched, no matter the phone calls and text conversations they were able to have in the meantime. He would never begrudge her the chance to be with her parents and her siblings; after all, she lived so far away now that she rarely saw them.

Still, he did miss her terribly as the days went on, between interminable meetings at work and the quiet times when Jamie was at daycare or asleep. The little guy, as ever, did keep him busy for a good portion of the day, but he couldn't deny that his girlfriend being gone was no sinecure.

Soon enough, though, the thirty-first dawned, and after putting in a half day at the office (deftly avoiding any possible proposed party or drink plans that Tony might invariably rope him into), he fetched Jamie early from his daycare, stopping at the store for a few things before running back home. The pair ate quickly as Steve kept an eye on the clock, knowing that he would need to be on the road to pick up Holly from the airport in a mere few hours. Jamie was excited as well, wondering about all the stuff Holly had done and what she would say Minnesota was like, his travel bag swung back and forth when his father did finally hustle them out the door again.

Having circled the parking ramp several times before finding a spot, Steve took Jamie up in his arms, not wishing to lose him in the bustle of people streaming all the way from the front doors. The airport was thrumming with activity, so many people spilling through security and down to the baggage claim. Quickly, the older man found a vacated bench, plopping his boy onto it before sitting down himself, glancing at his phone and preparing to wait.

That was something that his son was unable to comprehend after awhile, the toys packed in his bag losing all appeal after several minutes.

"Daddy, I'm bored," Jamie grumbled, stretching across Steve's lap. He laid over his knees on his back, staring up at the florescent lights that dotted the concourse. Steve's looked up from a magazine he was perusing, a dog-eared thing that had been left behind by some other passenger or crew member just outside of the security area. Glancing up at the overhead screen displaying arrivals and departures, the older man let out a soft sigh.

"I know it's not very exciting right now, but we're waiting for Holly's plane to come in. You gotta hang tight for a little longer," he said, the boredom in his own mind spurring him to only glance at the article about the newest celebrity couple sighting. The flight from Minnesota she was on had been delayed by thirty minutes, something she had warned him might be the case via text before she powered down her phone.

"But I'm boooooooored," the child whined, arms flopping and his body wiggling. Grunting in slight pain when the boy inadvertently elbowed him in a tender spot, Steve huffed out a breath and frowned.

"James," he started, his chiding tone causing the little guy to pout and wiggle some more. Laying a palm on the boy's belly, Steve set his magazine aside and tried to reason with him. "Just hang on, alright? She'll be here soon, and then we can go."

Jamie let out a soft whimper, but the warning look his father shot him made him merely pout and cross his arms. Several minutes passed with Jamie flopping around in his lap before he sprang away, snatching up the book in his bag and attempting to read on his own, just like his dad. Jamie had gotten a few words here and there, but soon enough, Steve had set aside the insipid magazine, helping the child work his way through the Clifford book he'd brought with.

A familiar, feminine voice called out them, cutting over the lulling drone of the others in the airport. Two heads snapped up, wide grins stretching the lips of both man and child as they spotted the source. Holly, her coat flapping open and her suitcase trailing behind her, began to pick up the pace to get to them faster.

"Holly, you're here!" Jamie whooped, hopping off the bench and running to her. At once she halted, releasing the handle of her bag and dropping to her knees when he came closer. Little arms latched around her neck, and Jamie buried his face against her sweatshirt.

"Hey, Jamie!" she crooned, squeezing him in her arms once before letting him go. Holding onto his shoulders, she reached up and tapped the tip of his nose as she smirked. "I told you I would be back for New Year's."

The little boy lolled his head from side to side. "But it was sooo long. You gotta see the toys I got from Uncle Bucky for Christmas."

He grabbed her hand, tugging insistently, and she chuckled aloud.

"Okay, buddy. You'll have to show me when we get home," she told him, her dark gaze flickering over to the boy's father. Steve had shot out of his seat almost as soon as Jamie had, but his son had beaten him to his girl. Still, his smile stayed on his lips as she stood up, reaching out for him and curling a hand along the edge of his jacket.

"Welcome home, sweetheart," Steve breathed, cupping her face and drawing her in for a quick, hard kiss. Jamie, for his part, had stop fake-retching every time they embrace, but he did still roll his eyes and shake his head. Adults were weird, they could hear him muttering, but it was brushed aside for the moment.

"Hon," Holly said when they parted, true pleasure and joy in her irises when she looked up at him. Her hand slipped from his jacket to circle around his shoulders, and a pleased hum rippled out when he hugged her back. "God, I missed you."

Steve chuckled at that, rubbing her back lightly before pulling back.

"C'mon, I doubt your parents were that bad," he said, tucking a loose strand of her hair behind her ear.

"Oh, it wasn't bad, it was just...overwhelming," she stated simply. And it was; to go from the small unit she'd gotten used to with Steve and Jamie back to the whole extended group of her parents, her siblings, and their families was unsettling. Grinning sadly, she also told him, "And I kept wishing you were there. Both of you."

She glanced down at Jamie again, giving the fingers he still had pressed in her grip a tiny squeeze, and the boy smiled up at her, sidling closer to her side and hugging her legs. His father gave her another peck on the lips, his own sentiments carried in the gesture.

"We missed you, too," Steve proclaimed, taking her suitcase from her and lacing his free hand with hers. Jamie walked on Holly's other side, holding her other hand and skipping along as they walked towards the nearest exit. As they went, Steve tilted his head, leaning closer to her ear to whisper, "Bed feels too big when you're not in it."

A pretty blush flooded her cheeks, accompanying the sly grin dawning upon her lips.

"I doubt you felt that way when you bunked at the Barnes'. I saw pics of that full you crammed onto, remember," she stated, her voice lowered as well so that Jamie would not cotton onto what they were talking about. Stopping by the bench where Jamie's own bag was, they situated it on his back before they resumed their venture out of the airport.

"Well...maybe next year, we can do Christmas together," Steve posited when they had crossed through the drop-off zone. Out the corner of his eye, he caught her staring up at him, the beautiful, true-blue smile that he had only ever seen her give him lighting her face. It made the thrums and rush in his own veins amp up. Dipping his chin slightly, he partially teased, "It could at least mean an upgrade in the sleeping arrangements."

Her smile remained, his true feelings read loud and clear. Already planning ahead to next Christmas had her giddy, but she merely winked at him when he fully looked at her.

"We'll see," she replied airily, and he laughed at that, guiding them all to where he had parked his SUV. Loading up her suitcase and her backpack in the back, he moved to take Jamie over to the back seat. The little guy froze then, gasping loudly before pulling out of his father's grasp.

"Wait!" he crowed, snatching up his little bag and unzipping it. As he pawed through it, Holly shot a questioning glance at her boyfriend. Steve maintained a pleasant expression, the corners of his eyes crinkling when the boy let out a triumphant yell. Turning back to the brunette woman, the little guy thrust something at her. "Holly, here."

"Oh, what's this, bud?" she asked, taking it from him. Turning it over, she examined the plush character with a wide green head and ears, all wrapped in beige and brown robes. The corners of her mouth curled up, and Jamie was practically vibrating with pleasure.

"It came in my Happy Meal when we went to Brookl'n," he declared, smiling broadly up at her. Patting the hand holding the small, stuffed toy, he murmured, "I want you to have it, cuz you like Yoda."

She blinked rapidly, touched by the gesture. Spotting it, Steve laid his hands on his boy's shoulders, rubbing them and beaming at him proudly.

"He really couldn't wait to show you. Said it would be the first gift he ever bought someone himself."

A fast look came from Steve then, and she stifled a giggle. The five-year-old had yet to really grasp the concept of money and purchasing things, but it did not deter from the fact that he wanted to have something he knew she would like. Crouching down, she wrapped an arm around him, planting a smacking kiss in his hair.

"That's so sweet of you, Jamie. Thank you," she said, the little guy too happy to be nauseated by the kiss. Pocketing the stuffed toy, she helped Steve get the little guy situated in his seat, moving around to the front passenger one when he was ready. Steve navigated them almost expertly out of the ramp, his free hand entwined with hers the entire way back to their building.

Her request to take a little time to shower and get things squared away at her place was met with some muted enthusiasm, which had her raising her eyebrows at her boyfriend as they made their way up to the second floor. Still, when he murmured something about a surprise for when she was done, she looked at him even more curiously. However, both he and Jamie buttoned their lips when she asked after it, Steve's only response being a kiss and an admonishment to hurry as she let herself into her apartment. Her apartment was as she left it: tidy, with a few books strewn along the breakfast bar and coffee table, and DVD cases surrounding her television. The quiet seemed foreign to her after the last week of family events and chatter, and she soaked it in as she dumped the contents of her suitcase atop her bed, grabbing her toiletry bag and headed straight into the bathroom.

One shower and quick change into her comfy sweater and jeans, and she was down the hall, knocking on the door. A shuffle and muffled curse met her ears on the other side of the door, her giggles smothered as she was bid to enter.

Leftover streamers from Jamie's birthday party were taped to the walls, the little guy in question running around with two long pieces and squealing happily. Steve, rubbing what had to be a sore knee that he banged upon something, was hobbling after him, laughing and grabbing up the boy seconds later. The pair of them greeted her happily, with the older man welcoming her to an impromptu New Year's Eve party. Holly giggled as she fully entered the apartment, taking in the glitter thrown upon the table and Pietro's Thanksgiving wreath set up on the breakfast bar. The Christmas tree was still up, along with the lights around the window, both of which were on and illuminating the living room. It seemed that chicken tenders, French fries, and chips were to be their repast for the evening (if the empty bags on the far counter and the ticking oven timer were any indication), along with a couple bottles of sparkling grape juice.

Holly eagerly trotted towards the two, sweeping them into separate hugs. After the emotional farewell of leaving her family behind, the overdue flight and the tedious ins and out of security and baggage claim, she was more than pleased to be spending the evening in with her two favorite fellas. Darcy was hosting a party, and had even texted her to once again invite them all along, but she had declined. She needed to be with Steve, and Jamie. She had missed them both so much, missed hearing the little guy chatter about everything under the sun and missed the man who still held her so tenderly as he did at the beginning of their relationship.

True to his word, Jamie showed her the toys Aunt Nat and Uncle Buck had gifted him with, and he was pleased to learn that she had brought back a couple things from her parents for him. They would be given the morning, she promised, instead distracting him with playing a round of Candy Land with him and his father. The hours crawled by, food and drink indulged in as the television was turned on and showing the NYE celebrations in Times Square.

(Holly dared to tease Steve, mocking him for coming back to boring, old D.C. when he could've stayed through for such an adventure back home. He'd merely rolled his eyes, confessing that it never lived up to the hype in reality, further prompting stories about times he'd actually made it to the infamous square.)

Before she knew it, she and Steve were seated on the couch, one of his arms curled around her and cups in hand as the ball began its descent. The seconds went by, and as it touched the bottom, she felt herself smile.

"Happy New Year," Holly said, raising her cup of grape juice as the crowd on the television cheered. Steve grinned, raising his own and tapping it against hers. Taking a sip, she turned towards the other end of the sofa. "Happy New…oh."

Following her gaze, Steve snickered silently. Despite his best efforts, Jamie did not make it to the ball drop. Instead, he was curled up on the long lounge part, his blanket swathed around his legs and drooping over the edge to the floor. In his arms was a soft, cream-colored bear he'd found in the back of his closet and had insisted on sleeping with since they had returned home. Teddy had to join them for the party, too, but like his owner, he was on his side, the festivities going on without them.

"Not this year, huh, bud?" Steve asked his sleeping boy rhetorically. Getting up, he put his cup down and strode over to Jamie, careful to keep his movements light. Opening his arms, he leaned over the child, scooping him up from the lounge. "Time for him to be in bed."

Holly got to her feet then, her own cup discarded as she held out her arms to him.

"I can take him. He's not that heavy," she insisted, fingers curling and beckoning to him. Blinking, Steve slowly nodded.

"If you're sure," he murmured, and when she dipped her chin in confirmation, he carefully transferred the child into her care. The light jostling did not stir the little guy, and despite herself, Holly did let out a light noise at his weight. Still, she ventured forth from the living room, holding Jamie close as she took him to his room. She liked being able to do such things for the little guy, liked taking care of him and being there for him.

In her heart of heart, she admitted that she actually loved it.

"G'night, sweetie," she whispered as she lowered him onto his bed, the covers drawn up over him as he stayed asleep. Gently, she pecked a kiss atop his head, slowly backing away from him. When he did no more than snuggle into the sheets with Teddy, she smiled and turned to go, stooping by the door to plug in his nightlight. Once she was out of the room and the door was shut firmly behind her, she let out a slow breath and pivoted toward the living room. Padding down the hall, she was pulled up short to find the television turned off and the room itself was empty. She hadn't heard any of it happen, as her focus was on Jamie and not waking him. In the glow of the window lights, she put her hands on her hips, glancing around. "Steve? Where…?"

Shuffling steps and a clearing throat resounded from Steve's room, and she followed it. A jarring pop came next, and she hurried her steps towards it, her brow furrowing as she reached for the door handle. Stepping through the door, her eyes widened at the sight before her. Steve had disrobed, down to nothing but a pair of boxer briefs. Not only were they boxer briefs, they were decorated with firework patterns, the new year printed on them as well. As he turned to face her, she could see the front part was imprinted with popped bottles of champagne, and she snickered. On the dresser behind him was a real bottle of bubbly, two proper glasses filled. As her jaw remained dropped and her gaze started to turn lustful, Steve smirked back, the grin at odds with bashful tip of his head.

"So, uh, want to ring in the New Year with me?" he asked her then, gesturing to the glasses. Another giggle poured out of her, the door clicking shut as she leaned back against it. The shift of the lock under her fingers was not missed by either of them, and Steve let his eyebrow raise minutely.

"Or with something, at least," she returned, crossing closer to him. Darting her gaze back to his boxer briefs, she pointed at them. "Been saving those, huh, cheeseball?"

He chuckled; apparently, his random and jokey Internet find was paying off.

"Yeah, was waiting for a minute alone to show you. What do you think?" he wondered, turning a little to show them off a bit more. Holly tilted her head to the right, tapping her chin and pretending to examine them thoroughly. However, when she stepped closer, he could see how much they truly affected her, with her pupils widening and her face taking on a sultry air.

"Love them. Make them a permanent part of your wardrobe."

"Okay, let's not go that far." he muttered, smiling even as he felt heat rushing through his own body at her hungry gaze. Picking up the glasses, he handed one to her, tapping it gently with his own. "Happy New Year, Holly."

"Happy New Year, Steve," she replied, her voice a few notches above a whisper. Smiles were exchanged as they drank, the smoothness of the champagne coating their tongues and gilding the night in a new way. Carefully, she sidled even closer, nearly backing Steve into the dresser as she reached around and put her glass down. Her hand moved to slide up his arm, across and over his chest, his heart thumping beneath her palm as it pressed there for a moment. Idly, she trailed a finger down to his stomach, a sharp breath inhaled when she skirted over his navel. As she withdrew her hand, the brief flash of disappointment Steve felt in losing her touch was forgotten when she started to tug up the hem of her sweater. Looking up at him through her eyelashes, she murmured, "I'm feeling a little overdressed. Help me?"

Steve's grin had turned a touch feral as he reached for her. He was certainly glad she was home, that was for sure.

"Absolutely."

* * *

 **A/N:** After the drama of the last chapter, I thought we could go a little more lighthearted for this one.

A separate Christmas, but New Year's together...fun times, all around.

Next chapter, I intend to jump ahead a few months, for good reason. :) Please hang tight until I get there!

Also, I wrote a new college!AU one-shot of Holly and Steve, called _Lesson Plan_. Please check it out, if you are interested! And lastly, I will also be working on the next chapter of _Growing Pains_ , so keep an eye out for it if you follow that story, too.

I own nothing from the MCU, nor do I own any other pop culture references made in the text (Marvel comics, _Star Wars_ , etc.).

Thanks for reading, please review, and I'll see you all for the next one!


	15. Chapter 15

With the new year started, it seemed natural for the months to slip by. January bled into February, and Steve and Holly celebrated Valentine's Day as it came, along with St. Patrick's Day, and even managed to persuade Bucky to come down to the District for his birthday in March (though Steve truly doubted they had any real sway, as opposed to the brunet man's girlfriend providing much better incentive. Holly merely laughed at that and was inclined to agree, but was glad enough to see the other man, when given the chance). March also saw the anniversary of Holly's arrival in Washington D.C., and the afternoon in question was commemorated in attending a play put on by Jamie's preschool class. Granted, the children weren't really able to recite lines terribly well, but the enthusiasm was there, and the joy on Jamie's face when he sang with his classmates about the coming of spring was infectious.

She also took delight in Steve's pride, reflecting how so much had changed in the year she'd known them, and how she looked forward to knowing more.

Right in the beginning week of April, though, her thoughts were otherwise occupied. After breakfast with the Rogers boys, she'd made her way to work, not expecting too much to have happened. However, she would discover the queasiness that her coworker and friend Darcy had been feeling the day before had accelerated into a full bout of the flu. By mid-afternoon, the office of Hill's Books had seemed to descend into madness, and she had no choice but to go along with it. Especially when, due to major errors, she was recruited into staying late.

After being essentially told she had to do so for the sake of her job, Holly found herself left in a state of utter disbelief. It took her a few minutes before she picked up the handset of her office phone, tapping out a number she now knew by heart. Calling Steve while he was at work wasn't ideal, but she figured that if her bosses were going to majorly inconvenience her that evening, they could put up with her calling her boyfriend to cancel date night.

It really sucked, too, since Steve had been hinting that he had ideas for that date night in particular, and now they would be wasted. Good thing he didn't hire a babysitter for the night all he would have to do was tell Natasha that she did not need to look after Jamie.

The rings rebounded in her ears briefly, before the click and shift came from Steve's end.

"Hey, you," he greeted her, the evident pleasure in his tone soothing her the smallest bit. It also made the guilt in her stomach grow.

"Hey, hon," she returned, fidgeting with the cord and twisting it around her finger as she sighed. "Listen, I'm calling about tonight."

"Still eager, huh?" he replied, his brief laugh making her wince. Once he'd started hinting, she'd been trying her best to find out what he wanted to do that time. Now, though, there was no need. She was unable to stop him from continuing, "I suppose I can spill a little, since it's the day. So I was thinking for dinner tonight we could go back to that Italian place by the dance studio, and—"

"Just hold on," she interrupted, unable to listen any longer. A bit of her frustration and anger started to leak into her voice, but she tried her hardest to keep it low. "I have to stay late tonight for work. One of the absolute total morons in the filing department got all our physical copies of our advertising literature mixed up with all the others in storage. I got drafted into helping sort. And I've also got three emails to drop about three different book events, all of which need tidying and editing, by myself in between all that since Darcy's sick. I can't get out of it."

"Oh, no," Steve breathed, sympathy and disappointment practically radiating through the phone at her. She bit her lip and sighed; after the morning she'd had, she was truly looking forward to date night, but then her bosses required her to stay behind and help the most incompetent filers known to man. Okay, it was an exaggeration, but she really had gotten dumped on, and she hated that one of the most basic areas of the job had been screwed up, and it wasn't even her fault to begin with.

"I'm sorry, hon. I really am." Holly rolled her eyes up, staring up at the ceiling and grunting. "I would rather go out with you, trust me. You have fun with Jamie, and I'll try to stop by when I get home, okay?"

"Well, wait," her boyfriend cut in, not allowing her to even begin to gear up for a farewell. "Who says that you can't have dinner with me? I'll swing by your office with some take-out, after getting Jamie situated with Nat."

Holly mulled it over for a few seconds. The idea had merit, and she would at least be able to see Steve for a little bit.

"...Okay," she conceded, dropping her gaze back onto the stacks of folders still waiting for her. Letting out a slow breath, she muttered, "I might have to eat and work, though."

Steve clicked his tongue, and she could imagine him shrugging a shoulder at her. "That's fine. Who knows? Maybe you'll find something magical and exciting while you're going through everything."

There was something in his tone that caught her, that little edge he carried when he felt he knew something and didn't want anyone else to know yet. He wasn't the greatest at concealing the truth, and she wasn't either, which was how she was able to figure out that particular tell of his. However, she could only raise her eyebrows at thin air in that moment.

"Unlikely. The only magical thing will probably be you arriving with something beyond edible," she retorted, forcing out a chuckle. His own answering laugh went a ways to tamp down her stress, at least slightly.

"Possibly," he replied, promising that he would be on his way as soon as the clock struck five. The two bid each other good-bye, the I-love-yous sitting well with both of them as they went to their separate tasks.

True to his word, Steve had arrived at the main offices for the publishing company, a cloth grocery bag in hand and his son safely ensconced with his pseudo-aunt for the evening. As he passed through the security point and was directed up the stairs, his free hand slipped into the pocket of his jacket, nerves jumping up inside him as he patted the object within. His plans for the night had gone awry, but they were in no way unmanageable. All that had changed was location.

Intent remained, and it was that intent that he would see through to the end.

Passing through the halls with relative ease, he nodded a couple hellos to the few other people still in the building before he arrived at Holly's office. Knocking on the slightly-ajar door, Steve heard her calling for him to enter. Upon swinging the panel open, he halted on the threshold, taking in the sight before him. Nearly every inch of the floor had been taken over by storage boxes, file folders filling them entirely. A good chunk had been rifled through, stacks of paper ringing around the two desks and the couch along the far wall. Holly herself was wedged into the back corner of the couch, dejectedly tossing an emptied folder onto a stack of others similar to it, the heels of her palms next pressing to her eyes.

"Holy cow," he grunted by way of greeting, stepping gingerly into the disorganization and shutting the door behind him. The brunette dropped her hands, letting out an audible snort at his words.

"I wasn't kidding," she replied, fingers combing back through her hair. The thick waves puffed out a little, and she appeared physically more flustered than she had sounded hours ago. Blowing out a sharp breath, she muttered, "I wish Darcy were here to help, but she's got the flu. It would only make things worse."

Steve frowned in empathy, setting the bag down on the single clear spot on the coffee table (a new addition to the workspace, he noted, since the last time he visited her there).

"Can I do anything?" he asked her, not wanting her to shoulder the burden on her own. Holly blew out a sharp breath, cutting a fast look up at him before rifling through another file folder.

"Babe, that's sweet of you, but honestly, I've got a whole system going on here," she said, gesturing to the myriad stacks littering the table and the ground around her. His eyebrows sprung together at that, but she did not give him the chance to say anything. "I don't want to mix in anyone else and potentially scatter things more."

Steve let out a soft scoff, skepticism in his glance as he sat down. "You really don't think I can help sort papers? You're joking, right?"

That earned him a brief glare, and more of her frustration came out. "No, I'm not joking, and it's not that I think you can't do it. It's just...I'm in a groove."

He blinked at her, his jaw tightening the slightest bit, and she exhaled, focusing on the stack of papers now sitting in her lap.

"Thanks for dinner, I'm sure you'd rather go now," she said, her tone soft as she kept her eyes on her work. Steve tutted under his breath, reaching over and tipping her chin up so she would look at him again. His fingers idly hooked into his jacket pocket, clenching the tiniest bit.

"Uh, I didn't say I wanted to leave." Casting his gaze down to the take-out bag, he continued, "I'm here, sweetheart, with food. And a little extra something, too."

The enticement of the offer was not enough for her to abandon her enforced project, her attention remaining on it.

"In a minute," she declared. In that moment, Steve was no longer willing to accept deflection or delay.

"No, now," he countermanded, deftly scooping the file folder from her lap and setting it on the floor on the other side of him. Off her protesting cries and snatching fingers, she let out a huff and a flashing glare.

"Steven, I'm busy," she stated, trying to grab up another file, only to be met with his palm flattening her choice firmly. Irritated brown eyes met resolute blue, and he let out a snort at her indignation.

"Too busy to eat? Too busy to sit still for five minutes and not stress yourself out?" he retorted sardonically, shaking his head and rolling his eyes. "Honey, I love you, but you do realize how hypocritical this is, right?"

Her eyes narrowed further. "Excuse me?"

His palm came up then, the dangerous turn of her tone telling him that he needed to tread lightly. And he would do so. After all, the night wasn't over yet, and he still had plans for it. Well, plan singular, but it was far too important to allow outside forces to sabotage it.

"Whenever I work late, or do stuff like this, you don't let me let it get to me," he reminded her instead, keeping his tone calm and matter-of-fact. And it was true, as well. Several times in the past, Steve had had deadlines to meet, mock-ups and designs that had been altered by the clients at the last moment that he had to accommodate, and he would have to spend time attacking them in between caring for his son and keeping the rest of his life on an even keel. When Holly had entered the picture, she had gone out of her way on those nights to try and ease the burden for him, and even sneakily replaced his drawing implements with a fork when he'd set them down. At which point, she would slide some Chinese food or whatever plate of food she and Jamie had been indulging in. He wouldn't let her contradict her own actions. "I'm doing the same for you."

Pulled up short by that, Holly trailed her gaze away, eyeing the papers distastefully before focusing on her boyfriend again. The anger in her had drained, and she determinedly nodded her head.

"Fine, fine. I'll eat, I'll sit still," she muttered. The smug, victorious grin that threatened to stretch Steve's lips was stifled, barely, and he shucked off his jacket as she pulled out the take-out boxes. She blinked in surprise when she noted the logo on them, shooting him an incredulous look. He shrugged and let his smirk show a little then they may not have been able to eat at the Italian place they'd gone to for their first date, but he had not completely taken it off the table. He was just happy they were amenable to him picking up the meals, especially when Holly opened up her box of chicken parmesan and let out an appreciative groan. As he partook of the linguini salmon, and split up the sodas he'd nabbed for them both from the gas station, he watched as she sank back into the couch, mumbling around her food, "How was your day?"

He canted his head as he speared a bite for himself. "Can't complain. Got a client who is looking for a few new designs for his ad campaign, liked my stuff. Had a meeting with him, and we'll get more details squared away next week. Jamie wanted to say hi and give you a hug, told him I'd pass it along."

On that note, he put his food back down, curling his arms around her waist and drawing her tightly against him. Holly looped her free arm around his shoulders, the hand holding her dinner going out so as not to spill.

"Gotcha," she stated, the corner of her mouth curving the slightest bit. Several minutes passed in that fashion, small talk given as they ate their meals. It seemed like the pair had barely dated themselves when Holly was reaching for another file, her box placed to one side and her relaxed posture threatening to disappear. Clearing her throat, she groaned, "Alright, I gotta get back to it."

Sensing he was on the verge of losing her, he hastily shook his head. Snatching at his jacket, he quickly dug into the pocket.

"Hold on, I told you I have one more thing for you."

Holly closed her eyes briefly, and she inhaled sharply before she turned to look at him again.

"Look, I know you're trying to make me feel better about this, but truly, this isn't...helping..."

Her voice was gone as she stared at Steve, mouth hanging open as he blushed. A small, blue box sat on the coffee table, opened and left on its own amidst the papers. It was what was between his thumb and forefinger that drew her attention. A simple, silver band with a small diamond sat atop it, bobbing a little as his hand shook. Swallowing hard, she forced her focus back onto him, blinking rapidly as her heart thumped in her chest.

"Steve...that's a ring," she breathed, her tone airy. The light in his blue eyes gleamed a bit, and he smiled briefly.

"It is. I, I had a whole plan set up, but things changed," he murmured, tipping his head down at the papers still surrounding them and their dinner boxes. Taking in a deep breath, he dropped his gaze onto his knees briefly. "Let me just remember the speech I had ready."

All Holly could do was nod, her wonderment never ceasing as he bit his lip. After taking a few moments to recall all that he wished to say, he dipped his chin once, his gaze connecting with hers again. It was not a position he had thought he would be in again, not four years ago, but then he had never imagined meeting anyone like her. He wasn't expecting to have his heart healed, to be open again.

One chance meeting, one year ago, had changed all that. And while the realization was gradual, once he knew how much he loved and cared for her, it did not take him long to decide what he truly wanted to do.

"I know that you probably weren't expecting to be with someone who is damaged, and part of a package deal to boot," he started, a self-deprecating look on his face. At that, Holly frowned, but his free hand came up, palm out to halt any protest she might mount. He needed to get it all out, before he shook any harder and lost his nerve entirely. When his palm came down, he curled it around one of hers, her fingers immediately lacing with his. The tremors in her own hand could be felt, and he squeezed her in reassurance. Another breath was taken, and he couldn't help but feel the natural build-up of pressure behind his eyes. Blinking hard, he continued, "But, but you've been so good to us, to me, and loved me and my son. I love you, too...we both do. So much…I, I don't want to lose that, I don't want to lose you."

It was then that he pushed himself off of the couch, kneeling before her and holding up the ring again.

"I love you, Holly. And I know I'm asking a lot of you with this; you won't only be a wife, you'll also be a stepmother, and I...I understand if that's not something you want to—"

"Steven," she blurted, unable to keep silent any longer, "can you just ask me, before you spill about any other excuse you think I could make?"

Her words were softened by the lilt to her voice, the curve of her lips, and he let out a fast, breathy chuckle.

"Uh, yeah." Clearing his throat, he exhaled sharply before looking at her again. Genuine feeling flooded him as his blue gaze connected with her brown, and the frisson of nerves was pushed back as he asked, "Holly, will you marry me?"

It was a lot that he was asking her, she understood that all too well. She also knew that life would not be simple for them, had never been truly that simple. However, she had known what she was getting into when she chose to say yes to him asking her out the first time. Holly knew that she was not his first, nor was she Jamie's. That spot belonged to another woman. Yet, it did not change the fact that they were able to love her just as much. And she loved them, too, more than she could have imagined.

Hearts thudded, the air seemed to still, the moment frozen for a precious second or two. And then, a giant smile split Holly's lips, her eyes glistening with unshed, happy tears.

"...Yes," she told him, repeating her answer as he smiled back. Pitching forward, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, and she giggled as he crushed her in his embrace. Delighted laughs rolled through him as he pulled back, his mouth on hers as pure joy rippled through them both. When the kiss ended, Steve took her left hand in his, guiding the ring onto her third finger. It was a little loose, but nothing that couldn't be fixed by a visit to the jeweler. For the moment, though, they were both far too pleased with what it symbolized to care overmuch about the size. The diamond glittered in the lamplight of the office, and Holly rubbed her thumb along the inside of the band. The sweet simplicity of his choice for her struck her, and she looked at the man now settling on the couch beside her once more.

She wondered at his courage, at how after living through the horror of losing someone he loved deeply, he chose to love again. He opened his heart and his life once again to the possibility, and she at times could not believe that she had been his choice.

His chuckles petered off, his smile lessening the tiniest bit as she continued to look at him. The barest arch of his eyebrow spurred her back into action. Completely ignoring the work still sprawling around them, she rose up, one leg shifting and settling on the other side of his lap. Cupping his face, she drew him up to meet her for another kiss, a small moan slipping out when his own palms slid from her waist to her bottom. The sparse innocence of the kiss vanished as they opened up to one another, heat and pleasure flaring as teeth and tongues met over and over. Soon enough, though, Steve and Holly had to pause, take precious breaths, their foreheads resting against one another's as the headiness of the moment soaked through.

"You want to get back to sorting?" he asked then, the cheekiness in his tone impossible to ignore. He bumped the tip of his nose against hers, and could not hold back on the grin he was sporting.

"Five more minutes," she countered, and he snickered. As he leaned forward to kiss her again, she leaned back, bounding away from him. Taking in the flushed nature of his face and the swollen aspect of his lips, she smirked as she backed up to the door. Reaching behind her, she smoothly flipped the lock, effectively blocking out those few left in the office. Blue irises trailed from her fingers up her body, meeting with her inclined chin and raised brows. "Maybe a bit longer."

The nearly wolfish grin he gave her as she began to saunter back to the couch made hot desire flood through her, and Holly began to ratchet up the minute count when Steve reached out for her, the work and the cooling leftovers forgotten entirely.

 **xXxXxXx**

After dinner was finished—and Steve and Holly had adjusted themselves enough to look presentable to anyone who dared to enter her office after that—they had come to a decision to not announce the engagement right away. For the time being, it would just be between the two of them, their joyous and happy secret.

Besides, they wanted to tell Jamie first, before word got back to the five-year-old in a roundabout way.

The following day, another Saturday, was to be spent in the Rogers' apartment. Steve and Holly were veritably glowing as they got things ready for breakfast, secret glances and sweet pecks exchanged as the bacon fried and eggs were scrambled. The young boy came out yawning, happily hugging them both around their legs before he bustled over to the table, grabbing up a coloring book and some crayons as he went. The meal passed well enough, with Jamie asking if they could go outside and play on the frames for the complex once the dishes were washed. His father looked to the young brunette woman sitting across from him, her head dipping in the barest nod. The time had come.

"Maybe we'll go outside and play later, bud. We gotta talk about something important with you first, okay?" Steve told Jamie, the young child looking up at his father and grinning.

"'Kay," he conceded, slipping his hand into his father's and letting himself be guided to sit on the couch. As he sat and swung his little legs back and forth, Steve crouched before him, glancing back at Holly. The pair of them shared soft smiles as she strode forward, pulling up one of the chairs from Jamie's play table and sitting near at hand.

"Okay, uh..." Steve trailed off, nerves getting the better of him briefly. As Holly laid her palm in support upon his shoulder, he found his breath and looked at his boy again. Taking both his smaller hands in his own, he went on, "Yesterday, I asked Holly a very important question, and she said yes. Still, it's something that you'll be part of, too."

Jamie glanced between the two of them, curiosity decorating his features.

"What is it?" he wondered. Steve let his lips curve into the bright smile he'd been holding back on, and he squeezed the little guy's hands carefully.

"I asked Holly to marry me," he announced, raising his chin a little. "She'll be my wife, soon."

Steve had thought that Jamie might have an exuberant reaction, or at the very least would crack a grin. But instead, the little boy's expression flattened, the curiosity replaced with confusion.

"Oh. But I thought you married Mommy," the blond boy stated, blinking rapidly as he processed the pronouncement. For his part, Steve felt the beginning twinges of apprehension snake through him, and he swallowed.

"I did marry Mommy. But, son, people can get married again after the mommy or the daddy is gone. Remember how I told you that I thought Holly might be around for a long time?" he reminded him, the statement he'd made months ago returning to the fore of their minds. Off to the side, Holly had stiffened in her chair, her hand withdrawn and her arms going to wrap around her waist.

Jamie's blinking increased, and he insisted, "Yeah, but what about Mommy? Don't you still love her?"

The boy's father let out the barest sigh, a pang rippling across his heart.

"I do, so much. But marrying Holly doesn't mean that I love your mom any less." He dared to dart a look to Holly. Mild discomfort laced her face, but she bore him no ill will as he spoke of Peggy. The relief slipping through him was brief, and he turned his attention back onto his boy. "And it doesn't mean that I don't love you. I still do, just as much."

Jamie shifted in his seat, his eyes dropping onto his feet. Holly, unable to keep quiet and wanting to aid Steve in whatever way she could, scooted her chair a bit closer, reaching and patting the boy's knee.

"It just means he has room in his heart to love more. Just like I do," she said to the little guy, hoping that he would understand.

Jamie looked at her then, his dark gaze widening at her words. The five-year-old pulled his hands from his father's grasp, sliding off the couch and wandering away down the hall. The click and shift of a door opening met their ears, and the two adults shared a fast glance. Steve rose from his crouch, both hands scrubbing down over his face. The disturbed glint in his irises did not go unnoticed, and she could not help but get up and reach out for him. When he looked at her fully again, he stepped up to her, cupping her face and letting his thumbs brush over her cheeks.

Steve was utterly baffled by Jamie's response to the news. His son had no real memory of his mother, as Peggy had died one month after his first birthday. All he had were pictures, stories, and his father's own word about how wonderful she was. He supposed that, in trying to keep Peggy's memory alive for their son, he'd somehow cemented the idea that she would be his one and only, that his life would not permit another woman to come into it. There was a time that he had believed that himself. He would not apologize for telling Jamie about his mother, letting him know her through his stories and all the things he could remember about her, but he had to correct—albeit it gently—the perception his son had developed.

"He just, he needs..." the bigger man tried to explain to his fiancee, uncertain what he could truly tell her. Holly took his hands in hers, the conflict pounding through her as well when she shook her head.

"I understand. Really," she assured him. She had no idea what else she could do, as she could not have predicted the boy's reaction any more than his dad could have. However, she could admit that he perhaps was not taking the news well, that despite being friends with the child and "friends" with his father, he now viewed her as an interloper. Perhaps he was recalling all the fairy tales he was undoubtedly told over the years, about wicked stepmothers and fearing that she would turn into one. There was no way to tell what was going on in his mind, and other than letting him have a few moments to think about it, she didn't know what else they could—

"Holly?" Jamie's little voice piped up then, his reappearance startling them both. The brunette woman looked around her fiance to his son, and she stepped forward.

"Yes?" she asked, wondering what it was that he would say. In his small arms was a photo frame, the picture within pressed to his chest. Steve inhaled sharply behind her recognized the frame, the cherry-colored wood muted slightly by age and sunlight. Holly knew it as well: it was Jamie's own photograph of his mother, one of Peggy holding him when he was only a few months old. The photograph lived upon his bedside table, his mother's love and joy with him radiating at him whenever he went to bed and when he woke in the mornings. He pulled it away from his chest, looking down at it for a few seconds before looking back up at her again.

"You know you're not my mommy," he said, turning the frame around and letting the two grown-ups see it. The undeniable proof of Peggy was between them, and Holly swallowed hard. Stepping out of Steve's embrace, she crouched down in front of Jamie, meeting his eye-line directly.

"I do. And I'm not trying to be her." Slowly, she reached up, a finger tracing the frame of the photograph. After a second or two, she laid her palm upon Jamie's small shoulder, a weak smile on her lips. "I'm just Holly, like I have been the whole time you've known me. I'll just be another part of the family. If you want me."

Jamie nodded, though he looked over her head to his dad. Steve kept his hands loose at his sides, smiling at his son and nodding in encouragement. The small child returned his gaze back to the woman before him.

"You love my daddy?" he asked her, the frame held in one hand by his side now.

Holly nodded, not hesitating in her answer. "Yes. So much."

The little boy's gaze dropped to his socked feet. The fingers of his free hand twisted around the hem of his t-shirt for a few seconds before he peeped up at her again.

"Do you...do you love me, too?" he asked, his voice even smaller than before. Holly's heart ached then, absolutely ached for the child before her. She knelt, reaching out and gently prying his hand off his clothes, holding it tightly in her own. Warmth spread through her as she looked upon him, the quiver of his chin to the deep brown of his eyes, the flop of blond locks spilling across his forehead. The liveliness of him, the purity of his heart and the joy of his spirit could not be seen, but were the things she loved most about him.

There was no hesitation in her answer for that question, either.

"Sweetie, yes, I do," she told him, that love for Jamie filling her as much as her love for Steve did. She smiled as tenderly as she could, hoping that he would see her sincerity and the truth in her own eyes as she spoke. Jamie stared back at her for a long while, the sharp breaths rising and falling in his chest as he looked at her.

"Then...I guess you can marry Daddy," he told her, sniffling a little as he nodded and put the picture on the carpet next to him. Her smile widened, even as the water in her own eyes stung and threatened to spill over. Steve felt the knot in his stomach and heart falling away as he let out a slow breath.

"Thank you, Jamie," Holly murmured, thumb sweeping over his smaller knuckles. Clearing her throat, she dared to ask a question of her own. "Can I hug you?"

At once, the small boy bobbed his head in a nod, tears blotting down his cheeks in time with her own.

"Uh-huh," he said, immediately pulling out of her grasp and lurching forward. Holly caught him, gently carding through his hair as she started to rock back and forth minutely. Sniffing again, Jamie turned his head a little, whispering, "I love you, too."

Off his muffled declaration, Holly hugged him even tighter, tears now running down her face. And they both felt solid heat and strength wrap around them as Steve knelt and embraced them both, all of them on the verge of becoming something new once more.

* * *

 **A/N:**...So yeah, Steve and Holly are engaged now. Maybe for some of you, it may seem like a year of knowing each other and eight months of dating are not enough for a widower to decide to marry again. Maybe it took for-freaking-ever in your minds. Either way, it has happened, and I am pleased.

Still interviewing and working like mad on my end, though I did start a new part-time job to replace my old one, and I have another interview for a full-time position this week as well.

As always, I will try to be more timely about updating this, but we'll see how life turns out. I recently posted a new chapter for _Growing Pains,_ as well as a one-shot of the Of Time universe called _Valentines._ Check those out, if you so choose!

I own nothing from the MCU, nor do I own any other pop culture references made in the text (Marvel comics, etc.).

Thanks for reading, please review, and I'll see you all for the next one!


	16. Chapter 16

The news of the engagement spread like veritable wildfire across their friends and families, with Steve and Holly barely able to hang on as congratulations seemed to be hitting them left, right, and center. Her parents, naturally, were thrilled to see their daughter so happy, while Steve felt the surrogate love pour in from the Barnes brood. Bucky and Sam, after sparing their own felicitations, had begun to argue over the best man spot in earnest (Holly was entirely grateful to have her sister to fall back on as Matron of Honor. That left Darcy as the other bridesmaid, and they were all okay with that set-up). After some deliberation, the couple in question chose not to have a long engagement, settling upon the second weekend in August as their prospective wedding date.

With four months left to plan, purchase, and prepare, the days seemed to fly by, holidays and Steve's birthday passing as the couple worked towards their end goal. In between daycare drop-offs, work meetings, and long nights spent pouring over possible music and present ideas, Holly and Steve found themselves nearly ready to be done with it. And that would not be the end of it; August would signal the end of Holly's tenure in her apartment, as she would be signing onto Steve's lease. Moving into his apartment would be simpler than her initial travels down to Washington, D.C., but it was yet another thing to do.

However, attention was focused in a specific area those first weeks of August.

"Why didn't we elope again?" Holly crowed, flopping down onto the lounge part of the couch the Thursday before the wedding weekend. Her hair fanned out beneath her as she let out a low groan. Two more boxes were filled, and she needed a break. Another one was dropped next to them, and her fiancé tipped his chin at her.

"Because a five-year-old would literally not be able to keep his first trip that far a secret?" Steve retorted, shuffling down the couch to sit beside her. "Assuming we went the Vegas route."

"Yeah, I suppose…though I would've rather gone to Niagara," she said, to which Steve gave a nod and a considering look. Chuckling to herself, the humor petered off when she tipped her head back and closed her eyes. "I didn't think that a small wedding would be this much work, though."

Her husband-to-be gave a great snort at that, and she cracked an eye open in time to spot his smirk.

"As the voice of experience on this one, I can promise you: this is far less than what it could have been," he said, gesturing to the boxes they had been filling diligently for the last few hours. All the decorations she had been compiling—with his and Jamie's aid, as she refused to take the brunt of the work for their wedding—were within the boxes, along with the favor for the groomsmen and bridesmaids. Perched atop one of them was the binder she had kept vendor information and other important numbers, as well as copies of the invitations that they had managed to print off (one of his own designs gracing the paper; it paid to have someone in the family who was talented at that sort of thing) and the day-of itinerary. The marriage license itself, which they had gone to city hall the day beforehand to pick up, had its own sleeve toward the back, ready to be signed after the ceremony. Smiling to himself, he glanced down at his fiancée, silently chortling as she scrubbed her hands over her face.

"Awesome. Guess I'm stressing a bit too much, huh?"

"Oh, no, you're stressing the right amount as the bride," he replied, a bit too cheerily for her taste. Patting her knee, he leaned over and fetched up the binder, flipping it open to the checklist at the top. "C'mon, let's go over everything one more time. You'll see how much is already done, and that'll make you feel better."

"Until I remember how much I need to do," she grumbled. Glancing up, she noted the spike of her fiancé's brow, and she sighed. Nodding to the binder, she stiffened her spine and raised her chin. "Sorry, you're trying to help. Let's look it over."

"Okay. And remember: it's how much _we_ need to do," he reminded her, emphasizing their dual responsibility in the endeavor. Tapping the end of her nose with a finger, he joked, "You're not alone in this, soldier."

"Good to know, Cap," she said, teasing him back with his official title and a salute. His gaze narrowed a bit while his grin remained in place, his arm suddenly snapping out and catching her around her waist. Hauled into his side, she laughed as he poked her ticklish spots, her own retaliation doled out. Their giggles and chuckles attracted Jamie's attention, the little boy springing up from his toys to dogpile them both. The impending wedding weekend, and all that accompanied it, was forgotten for a few moments, putting Holly in a much better frame of mind when they'd all calmed down.

The next day, the couple and young child brought down their own bags to Steve's SUV, driving across town to the hotel in which the wedding party and few guests were invited to stay at. Lisa and Paul had checked in an hour before they had, Holly's sister and brother in tow. Her little niece, Jodie, had been the choice for flower girl, and she had greeted her soon-to-be uncle and cousin with enthusiasm (and a touch of teasing, something she picked up from her dad when the fellow spoke to his prospective brother-in-law). Touching base with Heather and Bucky—the men had finally settled the debate, with Barnes as the best man and Sam having purchased the beer for the bachelor party in July—Steve and Holly felt a little more at ease as guests checked in and sent text updates of their arrivals. Boxes and bags were shunted into Paul and Lisa's room, with the exception of Steve and Jamie's personal bags. Jamie would be bunking with Cousin Sharon for the next couple of nights, the blonde woman the only of the Carters to accept the invitation to the wedding. (To be fair, she was the only one they asked, and she was more than okay with that fact herself.) Steve would be sleeping in the honeymoon suite on his own for the first night, Holly agreeing to follow a little bit of tradition and sleeping in the second bed in her parents' room until then.

When all members of the bridal party had been lodged, the hour approached for the rehearsal, dinner set up at an Italian restaurant near the hotel. Sending her mom and dad on ahead, Holly had swapped out her shorts and t-shirt for a dress, relishing the flow of it as coolness finally pushed away the heat. Sending a text ahead to her fiancé about meeting him in the lobby, she nearly walked right by the gentleman staring down the hall. Out the corner of her eye, she saw the befuddled expression on his face, his head swinging back and forth as he glanced at all the doors. He was older, only a little older than her parents, though his hair had gone full gray and he sported a silver goatee. Something about his bearing struck her: the cross between confidence and affability exuded from him was difficult to ignore.

Even more so by the smoothing of his hand over his parted hair, and the tugging at his tie and suit jacket as he tried to figure things out. Biting her lip, Holly glanced at the minutes ticking on the clock on her phone; it wouldn't hurt to help, she thought, and so she turned around, clearing her throat and facing the fellow.

"Excuse me, sir. Are you lost?" she asked, replacing her frown with a tiny grin. The older man let out a slow breath, a bit of his frustration leaking away as he attempted to smile back.

"A little. The staff in the lobby was most unhelpful, and so I have been trying to find my way on my own," he confessed, his English accent musical to her ears. Flapping a hand at the stretch of hallway before them, he murmured, "I seem to have gotten twisted and turned around."

Holly tutted under her breath, and the pity she felt increased.

"Well, I'm on my way to the lobby to meet with my family. I know the way," she offered, hooking her thumb back over her shoulder. Relief flooded his features, and the older gentleman dipped his chin.

"Thank you, my dear," he said, taking a step closer to her and nodding for her to lead the way. Slowly, the oddly-matched pair found their way down the hall, stepping over to the stairs instead of trying to find the elevator bank. In the echoing space of the stairwell, he continued to speak. "I apologize for my harshness. I was told my errant son-in-law was somewhere in this hotel, but he's refusing to answer my calls."

The brunette woman flushed at the frankness, and also at the obvious irritation in the man's dark eyes.

"I'm sorry," she muttered, not sure what else she could say. If the fellow was having issues with his family, she knew it would be better to let things be—given that she was a stranger.

"It's alright. Not your fault. I suppose he's too occupied with the woman trying to take my daughter's place right now to bother," he ground out, obviously goaded by the fury within to go on with his confessions. Awkwardness truly rippled through her then, and she cleared her throat after a few seconds to dislodge it.

"Oh, dear. That's...your daughter, is she okay? She probably needs you more right now if that's the case," she pointed out, wondering what good it would do the man to track down the son-in-law if

"She...she's passed on. But she still deserves better than this, even if she is gone. That idiot, wherever he is, should know that. And I intend to tell him that much before he marries the little witch that wormed her way into his life."

A tremor wracked through her then, the suspicions in her mind starting to build. A British man, in a D.C. hotel looking for his son-in-law, and his daughter was dead...this was no coincidence, much as she suddenly wished it was.

"Sir, no disrespect, but if your daughter is gone, and her husband wishes to remarry again, how can you stop him? He is a grown man after all." She caught the sourness in his expression, the craggy lines of his face deepening at the suggestion. Pushing herself to speak again, she wondered, "How long has she been...?"

"Four years. And were this any other circumstance, I would not object. But my grandson stands to be affected by this, and his father has no right to let some random person come in and take his mother's place. My Peggy doesn't deserve that."

The blood fully drained from Holly's face in that moment, confirmation a sickening slide in her gut. This was indeed Harrison Carter, Steve's ex father-in-law. Her stomach clenched and churned as she continued to tread beside him, her tongue struggling to work out a response. Of all the things she had expected for that weekend, she had not thought that he would show up, unannounced, the night before the wedding. For all intents and purposes, he had shunned Steve since Thanksgiving, and had only starting talking to Jamie again a few months ago. Her, he ignored entirely, preferring to pretend she did not exist, to the point that he evidently did not recognize her. With his plan revealed to her, she felt all the suppressed anger and frustration, and sadness, within rush up. Swallowing hard, she finally formulated a response to his declaration.

"Maybe she doesn't intend to take the boy's mother's place," she said slowly, glancing at him out the corner of her eye. When she got a bland look in return, she continued, "Maybe she cares for him enough to know that your Peggy was his mom, and she will just love him in her own way."

Mr. Carter sniffed, almost rolling his eyes. "Doubtful. Not many young women choose a widower with a child, not unless they want something."

Holly narrowed her gaze at him the tiniest bit. "Speaking from experience, sir?"

"Not for myself, mind you, but I have seen it happen."

"And that is the standard for all those relationships," she remarked, the sarcastic tone she'd been fighting against finally surfacing. The older man appeared to be taken aback by it, and she stopped walking. Staring up at him, she muttered, "You have no idea what you're talking about. I'm involved with a widower myself."

Mr. Carter's eyes widened and his jaw dropped the slightest bit. "Oh...I..."

Holly waved a hand through the air then, and she shrugged a shoulder.

"You didn't know. And there are a lot of things you don't know about me." They reached the bottom landing of the stairs, and she halted in her tracks, stopping the older man as well. Looking him fully in the eye, she decided there was no reason not to tell him the whole truth. It needed to get out, months of repression and swallowing it down refusing to let her do so. "You have no right to judge me, Mr. Carter."

The fellow looked absolutely gobsmacked when she said that, gaping at her for several long moments.

"How did..." he trailed off, understanding dawning on his features. At once, his dark eyes narrowed, hostility lighting his irises as he stared down at her. "You."

Holly felt a little shiver run up her spine as she faced him, but she refused to give him any more ground. He'd caused enough grief.

"I don't know if it's your own wounded pride or love for your daughter pushing you, sir, but you still have no right. I may not have known Peggy personally, but I do know what I feel. And I know that if I died before Steve, I would not want him to be lonely and miserable for the rest of his life because I was gone," she told him, another shake rippling through her as he glared even harder. His face was turning dark red, and she raised her chin, ready to finish her point. "And I wouldn't want Jamie to not have some sort of mother, just because my father has issues with moving on. In fact, I'm pretty sure Peggy would be pissed off to know that those she left behind wallowed in their misery."

"You cannot talk like that," he growled, the low tone he used enough to have her hands curling in at her sides. "Not to me."

"You can't either, to me," she retorted. Her left hand came to rest upon her chest, the engagement ring catching the overhead light briefly as she fiddled with her shirt collar. "I love Steve, sir, deeply. I love Jamie just as much. They are my family, too. Not in the sense that I'm taking away anything, but making some new to go along with the old. If you can't accept that, then that is your problem. If you still want to give a grand speech about how you're right and everyone should listen to you, and ignore the fact that life has moved on, then you can. We'll be in the lobby."

She started to walk away from him, but halted briefly at the door leading out of the stairwell. Looking over her shoulder at him, she felt the burn of the tears in her eyes increase. The mixture of confusion, loss, and anger in his face made her pity him, just the tiniest bit. However, she would not waver on her stance.

"But remember, it won't just be me or Steve you're shutting out and dressing down. Your grandson will suffer, too. Again, that's your choice."

With that said, she pushed against the door, leaving the older man in his stewing. The door had clicked shut behind her, and she paused before continuing on her way, shaking and unsteady breaths filling her chest before she felt calm enough to move again. She had barely made it to the turn of the hall when she hear the distant, scraping metal creak of the stairwell door opening again, but she did not turn back. Instead, she focused her eyes onto the carpet, watching as her steps took her ever-closer to her fiancé, and his boy.

Her boy, too, she told herself, warmth replacing the cold that had set into her chest and stomach.

Looking up when she stepped over the threshold into the lobby, the smile she had pasted on threatened to drop when she spotted Steve standing beside a woman in her sixties, steel gray hair pulled back into a bun and her light brown eyes riveted onto the small boy by her side. Jamie was happily bouncing around her, telling her about some exploit in daycare. Steve caught her gaze, his brow furrowing as he spotted the set of her countenance. He started to turn towards her, but she quickly shook her head. If Harrison Carter was indeed still following her lead, he would know about the issues that were aired soon enough.

The older woman glanced up at her then, too, and Holly sucked in a breath. From the pictures she had seen of Peggy, it was clear from whom she had gotten her looks. Amanda Carter, even at her age, was beautiful, in a timeless and effortless way. But what truly caught Holly's attention was the emotion in her gaze. And the lack of censure.

Faltering in her steps for a second, Holly cleared her throat in an effort to keep herself calm. It also gave Jamie the chance to notice her arrival, and he tore away from his grandmother in excitement, wanting to bring her over to them all.

"Holly!" Jamie cried out her name, seizing her hand and starting to tug her in the direction of the family. Steve shared a look with the older woman before finally stepping away, determined to be close to his fiancée. Already feeling the solidity of his support from that distance, Holly was able to keep going.

"Hey, kiddo," she replied, ruffling his hair and sniffing hard. Nodding to where his dad was standing, she said brightly, "Looks like you guys beat me down here."

"Yes," Steve confirmed when they met in the middle, the strain in his own grin becoming more apparent as he glanced beyond her. Lowering his voice, he murmured, "I see you've found the other unexpected guest."

She felt the burning glare on her back, and stiffened her spine to not turn around. Steve's face setting into icy resolve was enough to tell her that she had indeed been followed. Still, any remark she could have made was stifled when Jamie looked around her to see who his father was talking about.

"Grandpa!" he cheered, pure joy in his face as the elder man got near. The thunder in Mr. Carter's face was checked, almost physically wrestled down as he looked to his grandson and forced a smile.

"James. Hello, sport," he greeted the child, opening his arms and gathering Jamie into a hug when he ran to him. Glancing up, his muted ire flashed at both Steve and Holly, but he pointedly took Jamie by the hand and drew him to the far side of the room. As he sat in one of the arm chairs provided, his attention was focused solely on the boy, the two adults left in the dust watching on warily.

And it was not only them watching.

"Harrison, I've been worried sick about you," Amanda Carter chided him, her accented tone holding a measure of exasperation and indignation. Crossing to her husband, the two engaged in a terse, swift conversation, one that had Jamie standing by and looking on in confusion. Dark looks were passed, and then Amanda stepped away from Harrison, crossing her arms over sweater and sighing deeply. Carefully, she moved away from him and her grandson, approaching the couple still standing by. Remorse lit up her gaze and she cupped her hands in the air. "I do apologize, truly."

Holly blinked, while her fiancé curled his arm around her and drew her against his side.

"It's okay, Amanda," Steve began, weariness invading his irises. No doubt he'd been fielding apologies from her since their arrival, Holly mused, but she wasn't about to halt her speech.

Amanda shook her head sharply, holding up a hand to forestall any protests on Steve's part. "No, it isn't. Listen, please. I am sorry for my husband's conduct, I'm sorry for our sudden appearance here, and I'm sorry that things have gotten this far." Another irritated glance was shot to her husband, and she pinched the bridge of her nose. "I could not stop him from coming, so I thought it would be best if I at least came with. He gave me the slip as soon as we checked in."

Holly sidled, reaching up a hand to curl her fingers around Steve's where it held her waist.

"I..." she trailed off, not sure what to even say to the woman before her. Not in a million years did she think that the Carters would actually be stateside prior to the wedding, and to be proven wrong had thrown her. Amanda lowered her own hand, her lighter gaze assessing the younger woman swiftly.

"So, you are Holly. Jamie and Steve both have spoken very highly of you." The grin she gave Holly was slightly pained, and slightly wistful, but it at least was genuine. Inclining her head, she intoned, "I hope that what I have been told is true."

She flicked her gaze to her ex son-in-law, and Steve's cheeks went a little pink. He had not been shy about Holly, refusing to hide her from his old in-laws. Amanda, over the course of the last several months, had at least come around to the idea of Holly being part of his life, and Jamie's. And, more to the point, she was a little relieved. Steve was a good man, and while she certainly could not forget what he had meant to Peggy— and her to him—he did not deserve to go through life alone after her death. Nor should Jamie.

The brunette woman at his side gave her a tepid grin. "Me, too."

Mrs. Carter nodded once, glancing over her shoulder once more before she took a step closer.

"We are not going to impose on your wedding, in any respect," she told them, trying her hardest to reaffirm that truth. Unbeknownst to them, Harrison had actually intended on going to the ceremony itself on the following day, but Amanda refused to let him make a spectacle of himself. Peggy, she knew, would not want her father to do any such thing, and she had to reinforce that to get him to relent. It wasn't enough to deter him from going to Washington, D.C. in the first place. Letting out a soft breath, she confessed, "He just...insisted on coming, once he knew. For what it's worth, I know you are not trying to replace my daughter. And I sincerely wish you both luck. I'll do what I can to smooth things over."

The promise took them both aback, Steve and Holly sharing a surprised look. Silence settled around them for a few seconds, before Holly managed to get her tongue back.

"Good," she stated. Holding out her palm to the older woman, she pronounced sincerely, "Jamie needs you in his life, and I have no intention on being the thing that separates you."

It was Mrs. Carter's turn to be surprised, but she did have enough presence of mind to return the handshake. At her offer, Steve felt his heart swell in his chest. Oh, he had chosen a good woman, he thought to himself. When the handshake ended, he leaned closer to Holly, whispering a question in her ear. Her brow furrowed, but still gave a short nod, and Steve coughed once when he straightened up again.

"Amanda, I know that the wedding is not something...well, if you're here for the weekend, you could have Jamie stay with you tomorrow night," he said, wanting her to see the honesty of his offer. They saw Jamie so rarely, and while the situation was less than ideal, they could at least spend a bit of time with him. Attempting a smirk, he continued, "Give Sharon a bit of a break."

The older woman chuckled a little at that, a gleam coming into her eyes.

"I'll see," she told him. Pivoting on her heel after a couple more seconds, she went back to the arm chair Mr. Carter was seated in. Jamie was on his lap, having just finished telling him about the pipe cleaner ponies he and Cassie had made in daycare, and he was about to launch into another tale when she bent and pecked the boy on the crown of his head. Turning her gaze back onto her partner, she declared, "Harrison, come on. Jamie needs to go with his father and step-mother now."

Harrison's good temper evaporated and he shot a harsh look at Holly. She flinched, but she did not drop her gaze, Steve leveling him with a look of his own.

"She's not—" he began to growl.

"She is," Amanda cut him off, the sharpness and coldness in her voice pulling her husband up short. Locking eyes with him, she straightened her stance, daring him to go against her. "Grow up."

Jamie, catching the looks his grandfather had given both his dad and Holly, slid out of the older man's lap, poking him in the arm as he went.

"Don't be mean, Grandpa," he proclaimed, so much seriousness invading the five-year-old's voice. Mr. Carter blinked at his insistence, and could only listen as Jamie told him emphatically, "Holly's nice, and my friend."

Faced with the ire of his wife, the irritation of his grandson, and the pigheadedness of his ex son-in-law, Harrison Carter merely raised his chin. He would not be heard, and so there was no reason to belabor his point. Not for the rest of that evening, anyway. Rather, he rose from his chair bending to hug the young boy. The stiffness of the gesture was impossible to miss, and he finally felt a stab of guilt in his stomach when the child's wide eyes stared up at him.

"Good-bye, James," he muttered, turning then and heading back into the interior of the hotel. Amanda's gaze trailed after him, and the flush in her skin was ignored as she knelt by Jamie. Her hug was warm and loving, and he immediately responded to her embrace.

"Bye-bye, lovely boy," she whispered, another kiss pressed to his cheek.

"Bye, Grammy. See you soon?" he asked, clearly hoping he would. Taking his hands in hers and giving him the widest smile she could muster, she nodded.

"Before we leave, I promise I'll see you. Now, go on, love."

Patting his back, she guided the boy to go his father. Meeting their gazes once more, she lifted a hand in farewell. Soon enough, she was going over to the front desk, fetching up the single overnight bag and a purse, both of which had been watched by the young fellow working there. When she had disappeared down the hall, Steve and Holly let out slow breaths.

"Are you okay?" he asked her, releasing her waist to cup her cheek. Holly met his eye-line frankly, internally musing over her state. Was she perturbed? Yes. Shaken? Of course.

But ultimately…

"Yeah," she responded truthfully. Placing her hand over his, she inquired softly, "You?"

"Yeah," he affirmed, bending and planting a peck on her forehead. Reaching down, he scooped Jamie into his arms, the boy whooping as he was hoisted up. Giving the child a quick tickle on the belly, he glossed over the residual anger and frustration with a grin. "Let's go."

Jamie nodded enthusiastically, before suddenly bending in his dad's grip and wrapping his arms around Holly's shoulder. Something inside her finally loosened, and she let herself be enfolded, the reminder of what she was about to truly gain banishing the evening's drama for the time being.

* * *

 **A/N:** …Oooh, a Carter and Holly confrontation…I think that went well.

We will be getting to the wedding…soon soon soon! Just gotta hang on until then.

Thanks for bearing with all the delays and such; anxieties and life, man. Also, I did update my other story, _Growing Pains_. Please read if you feel so inclined. :)

I own nothing from the MCU, nor do I own any other pop culture references made in the text (Marvel comics, etc.).

Thanks for reading, please review, and I'll see you all for the next one!


	17. Chapter 17

The rehearsal of the wedding passed, with very little incident from anyone in the wedding party. Steve had, after all, been married before, and the steps of the ceremony were at once familiar and foreign. Holly, the newcomer, could see the wistfulness that had entered his gaze on and off over the evening, the little bittersweet quirk of his lips when he smiled. She could not blame him for it; while it would be a joyous occasion, it was unlikely that he would forget about the first time he'd entered into holy matrimony. Still, his smile did soften and remain with her and his son as the night went on, even when he had to part from her to sleep (all alone, he bemoaned his fate in her ear when he kissed her good night, and her own ache increased when he did so).

The Saturday dawned bright and hot, the swelter of August surrounding the hotel as the wedding parties met briefly for coffee and complimentary breakfast. Once the bagels and waffles had been had—along with the worst coffee any of them had ever had the displeasure of tasting—they separated, the men to pick up their suits and the women to the salon to prepare.

"Look at you, little sister," Holly's sister Heather declared when her turn in the chair was finished. With her hair pulled up and curled, along with the make-up, the soon-to-be-wed Martin sister looked lovely. Her words called over their mother, who likewise looked upon her with pleasure and pride. Hugging her around the shoulders, Heather dared to shoot her a cheeky wink and grin. "You're gonna make him cry."

The tears that threatened to well up dissipated then, and Holly gave her a halfhearted glare.

"Oh, please."

"My money is on her crying first," Darcy piped up then, smiling smugly as her friend shot her a harsh look. As the stylist unwound a curler from her hair, she shrugged a shoulder. "Seriously, there's ten bucks in the pool."

"Shut up!" Holly crowed then, unwarranted laughter spilling out of her then. It helped dispel the nerves trembling through her, helped ground her as took in a few more deep breaths. The fact that she was marrying that day, marrying a man she knew she would love for the rest of her life in her heart, was an incredibly moving one, and while she did give it the gravity it deserved, she was relieved that her sister and friend were helping to make it seem less astounding. In due course, the ladies were coiffed and ready to go, loading into the rental SUV Lisa and Paul had gotten for the trip and heading out to the church.

The small chapel was only a few streets away from the hotel, just a short distance from the river. The chosen minister had previously been a chaplain to the unit Steve and Bucky had served in, the man's guiding hand and grace having comforted and steadied the captain in the past. He was always the first choice for them, and Holly could see why; Phil Coulson had a calming presence, the air around him seemingly setting everything to rights. He had intercepted her and the others when they parked, carefully taking the bride's elbow and guiding her inside, murmuring about how the groom's party was already there and things were on track. The relief she felt was compacted by the air conditioning swirling around them (it had inexplicably cut off near the end of the rehearsal the night before, and they all had left a little sweatier for it). The interminable heat of August had sweltered around it, the haze of D.C. descending into late summer giving the day a heady air.

With the dresses stored in one of the basement rooms, it didn't take any of them too long to become decked out for the processional. A small wedding party, a small congregation—Steve and Holly's combined invitees number less than sixty—but at that moment, she couldn't have been gladder for it. The thought of being more on display that she was, was daunting to Holly, and she could only imagine how Steve would feel, given his own proclivity to privacy. Adhering somewhat to tradition, the groom would not be seeing the bride before the wedding, the nerves coming back the longer they waited for the service to begin. Jamie, all trussed up in a miniature tux, ran back and forth between the parties, providing updates and a couple garbled messages between his dad and Holly. The brunette woman took comfort in his enthusiasm, catching him in a tight hug and letting him know how much of a help he was being. He puffed out his chest proudly as Lisa took the boy's hand, guiding him to his place in the procession just as they were all bid to get into formation.

From the back, Holly felt a slight shake travel up her spine. She'd cooled down considerably, and was grateful that her dress was short-sleeved. Idly, she shifted her knees, the white material swishing around her knees (another thing she was grateful for: it stopped just below knee length at the front, before curving and lengthening in the back, providing more air flow). The bouquet of tea roses lightly perfumed the chapel, joined by the ones carried by Heather and Darcy. Her gaze took in everything she could see: the sleekness of Bucky and Sam's dress uniforms as they escorted the women down the aisle, the tulle on the pews that was put up so well by her mother and brother the night before...the water lacing her dad's eyes as he looked down at her.

The music softly shifted, and the gathered people stirred, knowing that with the bridal party situated at the end it signaled the next arrival.

"Here we go," Paul whispered to her, pride and a small measure of sadness lacing his voice. Squeezing his hand, Holly took in a deep breath, inclining her head the barest bit to let her father know she was ready. The small chapel lit up with pleased murmurs and light whispers as her dad and she moved down the aisle. Her focus, though, was centered upon her soon-to-be husband. Steve, his dress blues just as smart as they had been on the hanger she helped packed, was smiling, his hands actually coming up and covering his mouth as his blue eyes glittered. His dark gold hair had been combed with precision, and the gleam off his devices and other insignia was obvious. Beside him, Bucky nudged him with his elbow, a whisper passing that was unheard by everyone but him and Sam. Holly's gaze remained upon her husband-to-be, his pure happiness contagious.

As Minister Coulson inquired as to who was giving her away, she only looked back when her dad answered that he was. Placing her hand in Steve's, Paul inclined his head once to his soon-to-be son-in-law, a peck gracing his daughter's cheek before he stepped back. Holding out his hands, he took both Jamie and Holly's niece Jodie back with him to the pew, Hank and Lisa scooting down to allow them the room to sit.

Steve nearly swept her into his arms then. She looked gorgeous, glowing as the warm sun pierced through the windows of the chapel, lighting her up. Another day, another white dress and another woman entered his mind briefly, and he blinked. He would never forget Peggy, never forget her beauty and vivacity on their day years ago, but he knew Holly would forever reside in his heart as well.

"So beautiful," he whispered to her, lacing their fingers together as they walked up onto the dais.

"Handsome," she murmured back, pink flushes in both their faces as the minister stepped a little closer to them. Opening the service with a prayer, he bid the gathered folks to recall the purpose of the ceremony, of the love shared between two people being the strongest base they had and the greatest chance at success as they embarked on a new path in life together. Trembles shook Steve's hands as they continued to listen to Coulson, and Holly squeezed gently when she felt her own begin to shake, each taking comfort in the other as readings were done.

Vows were exchanged, rings coming to hand and placed upon one another's fingers in a seeming blur. A misty blur, as Holly indeed began to tear up, but she wrestled down the rising waters yet again. The wedding band sat snugly next to her engagement ring, and she focused on it to steady herself. Her gaze flicked over to Steve's ring, stainless steel with two bands of royal blue enamel running around it. The simplicity of it was his design, brought into reality via a connection of Gabe Jones', and she admired the choice. Soon enough, she came back to herself, Steve's grin never fading as he gazed upon her. Minister Coulson gave the pair a slight grin, tipping his head in a nod at Holly, and she turned to hand her bouquet to her sister as he spoke again.

"And now, the bride has something to say to the groom's son, Jamie."

The child in question lifted his head at that, a quizzical expression lacing his features. This wasn't part of the rehearsal yesterday, which was by design as well. She, having discussed doing something special for the boy with his father, had come up with the idea of a speech, her dabbling in writing to be utilized to convey her feelings for him as well. After all, Steve was not the only one she was binding herself to from that day forward.

"Me?" the little guy croaked, eyes wide as he looked up at the dais. Ripples of chuckles coursed through the gathered crowd, and he blushed at the attention brought onto him. Cupping his hand in the air, Steve nodded encouragingly at him.

"Come on up, son."

Slowly, Jamie got out of his seat, guided gently by Lisa to the aisle. Trotting up to his dad, he was pivoted to face Holly, his father's hands on his shoulders squeezing gently. His big brown eyes latched onto her as Holly sank down to a crouch, meeting the boy on his level. She reached out, one hand taking his, her thumb rubbing tenderly against the skin as she was withdrew a piece of paper from the top of her dress. (Jamie giggled at that, and Steve smirked as Holly snickered with him.)

Unfolding the paper, she had to take a moment to breathe, her focus flicking from the words she'd scrawled weeks ago just for the little boy in front of her.

"James Michael Rogers," she started, smiling at him and unable to stop as she went on, "today is probably one of the most special days in my life, and I hope yours, too. Not only am I marrying your dad, I am also becoming your step-mom, officially. And I could not be prouder to be so. You are the sweetest boy, with the biggest heart and the best of intentions in everything you try to do. You have changed my life in ways I never thought could be changed, and will keep doing so."

With each word, Jamie's own eyes had started to water, and soon enough, he could no longer stand still. Launching forward, he gave a little shuddery cry as his arms curled around her neck, his face buried against her shoulder. A couple of her own tears fell as she hugged him back.

"Oh, sweetie," she crooned, rubbing his back and rocking him a little. Hushed breaths and delighted gasps met their ears, a couple of voices muttering about how adorable it was. Within a few moments, Jamie was pulling away, the end of his sleeve brought up to swipe at his face.

"'M sorry," he mumbled, another flush flooding into his face as he stared down at his shoes. He was a big boy, not a crybaby, but he couldn't stop himself. He just hoped he hadn't made Holly sad or mad, but the bright expression she sported told him it was alright. And not only that.

"It's okay, bud. It's okay," Steve reassured him, bending at the waist and planting a peck in the boy's hair. For once, Jamie did not screw up his face in disgust or try to shrug it off. Instead, he leaned back against his dad's legs, reaching up with and grabbing his hand. The other snatched at Holly's again, the child linking them all together as the young woman tried to get her throat clear and her tears away before she continued speaking. Within a few moments, Holly was able to trust her voice again, glancing down once at the piece of paper for the words she knew by heart.

"We, we might not always get along in the future, but I know that despite any problem, any mistake we all face, I will love you, and be proud to claim you as my family," she told him, letting the paper drop as she tenderly smoothed over the part that had been forced into his hair. The burnished gold strands tickled her fingers, and the short giggle she managed to get out of him flooded her heart with joy. "I love you, Jamie."

"I love you, too, Holly," he whispered back, nestling into his father's leg. The little boy gave them both a wan smile, clinging as the gathered people cooed and murmured once more. Tucking his fingers around Steve's pant leg, he asked, "Can I stay here, please?"

The older man opened his mouth, but the woman on the dais with him was the one who answered.

"Yes, sweetie."

The ceremony proceeded, Jamie alternating between standing with his dad or with Holly as the readings took place. He smiled up at both of them, though he did frown when the minister asked him (albeit gently) to step back while the ceremonial candle lighting took place, though his Uncle Bucky did swing him up into his arms as it happened. With the candle lit and the last speeches made, Minister Coulson announced to the congregation to welcome the newlywed couple before them. After being bid, Steve drew Holly forward for their first kiss as husband and wife, the tears in her eyes happier ones indeed as Jamie tugged away from his uncle and slammed into her legs with a hug. Laughing as the rest of the people gathered did so, the couple joined hands with the five-year-old between them, the family now walking back down the aisle and out into the entry to greet those who had come.

Through the congratulations of her parents, of the Barnes brood slapping Steve's back and giving Holly hugs, the smiles did not cease, the happiness of the day remaining even as all descended upon the hotel's rented ballroom, dinner had and dancing brought about through a DJ friend of Pietro's.

The first dance had been had, and the pair were now dancing again, the hour later and the sun lowered to give way to the moon. Steve, with his jacket cast off to the side along with Holly's veil and bouquet, couldn't help but gaze down at her, blue irises unfathomable as he took in the beading on her short sleeves, the flush hinting at the neck of her bodice and sweep of her hair.

"What is it?" she asked him, one hand coming up to cup his cheek. Steve's expression softened further, the smile on his lip never fading as he turned them both.

"I just…I can't believe my good luck," he murmured, bending closer and pecking her temple. Indeed, it was a common thought for him in the days following her arrival over a year previous, and one that he couldn't banish since rising that morning. He was lucky, lucky to find in her a lightness to gild what had gathered around him.

Warmth and adoration flooded through her for what felt like the millionth time that day, but she had yet to tire of it.

"Neither can I," she told him, leaning her head against his shoulder and sighing in contentment. Suddenly, a pair of hands patted at their legs, and they glanced down in synch at the boy before them. Despite having spent much of his time darting around with his new cousin, and worming his way into Darcy's good graces, Jamie had not been too far from them both, proving that yet again in that moment.

"Daddy, I wanna dance with Holly," he insisted, his eyes heavy-lidded as he made his wishes known. The father snickered a little, stepping back to let his son cut in with his wife.

"One more dance, and then you've gotta get to bed, mister," he admonished him, crouching down and tapping the end of his nose. The little boy screwed up his face, lolling his head back and forth.

"Do I hafta?" he moaned, a little whine sneaking into his voice. Chuckling at the clear tiredness lacing through the boy, Holly took his hand, leading him further onto the dance floor.

"Yes. C'mon, let's dance, bud," she said, flashing her husband a bright smile over her shoulder, her own exhaustion vanishing in that moment. The blond grinned back, stepping back to watch his son and his wife turning in a circle, the little guy hoisted up into her arms and his head laying on her shoulder. Steve looked around at those still in the room, Bucky sitting in a chair with Nat in his lap, Pietro and Darcy engaging in a dance of their own. Her family mixed with his surrogate one, and waiting in the far doorway, with a tired smile of her own, was Amanda Carter, standing with Sharon and meeting his gaze directly. The soft sadness accompanying her grin made a slight wince appear on his face, but she lightly shook her head at him. It was his day, his happiness to be shared, and she did not begrudge him. Instead, she shifted her face towards her grandson, and she softened her gaze further. Harrison had still not forgiven him, but she was not of the same mind, and she wouldn't allow him to separate them all.

It would take time, but she would start with taking Jamie to their room, a night spent with them as his father and his stepmother departed for their own room.

As good-night hugs were given and the words of farewell passed to their friends and families, the couple walked arm in arm to the elevator, Steve slinging his jacket on loosely and Holly playfully toying with his tie. A yawn coursed out of her then, and he pulled her in a little closer, his palm running up and down her arm.

"Tired?" he asked her, an eyebrow spiking minutely as she canted her head.

"A little. It has been a long day. But..." she trailed off, slowly raising her eyes to meet his gaze, "not ready to sleep yet."

The arm around her squeezed tighter, the lilt in his eyes allowing the simmering undercurrent to leak through.

"Good. I'm not ready to sleep, either." Nosing at her temple, he turned her suddenly, her back against the wall as he pressed ever-closer to her. "But I am ready to go to bed."

A low, throaty chuckled coursed out of her, fueling the fire. "Eager, are we?"

"To be with my wife? Of course," he retorted, smirking as she giggled again. His lips claimed hers then, the heat of his kiss spiraling through their bodies and fanning the flames further.

When they broke apart for air, she curled her hands into his collar, and dared to tease him a little more. "Not that we'll have a week of it being the two of us or something."

Steve inclined his head. "Gotta start it off right."

"Okay," she agreed, grabbing his hand and starting to lead the way down the hall again. The door to their suite loomed ahead, and she shot him a cheeky look over her shoulder, a second wind caught as they got to it. Holding out her hand for the key card, she took it from him and swiped it through the lock, almost shoving the door open. Gesturing grandly, she said, "Let's get started then, captain."

A wolfish air colored his smile, and he swept her up in his arms, relishing the mold of her body to his and the curl of her legs around his waist as he carried her into the room.

So ended their day, wrapped in each other's arms and all the more grateful for the good luck that had shone upon them.

 **xXxXxXx**

The bucket and sponges fell from Holly's hands to the linoleum floor, the vacuum parked in the empty living room and her keys perched upon the empty breakfast bar. After a week spent along the Carolina coast (and calling in to Jamie as he spent time with his Uncle Sammy), the day had come for Steve and Holly to return home. Returning home meant performing the last major task of the month, which was cleaning out her apartment and letting it be prepared for a new renter.

Her furniture had been either stored or sold over the course of the last few weeks, the insanity of moving absorbed into the wedding duties, but slowly her things found their way into Steve's home. Books filled the shelves in the living room, Jamie's toys sometimes sitting atop them, too. Pictures of _The Cherry and the Spoon_ joined ones of the Brooklyn Bridge, her clothes stashed into the dresser and closet with her husband's.

Mentally reviewing the checklist in her head, she nearly jumped when the front door of her apartment swung open. In stormed the little boy, running around with his arms stretched out like he was an airplane. Behind him came his father, Steve casting his glance around the now-bare walls of her place and clicking his tongue at the reverberations of Jamie's playful cries.

"Is there anything left to take down or put into the truck?" Steve asked her, hands on his hips and smiling at her. She had a few boxes left, odds and ends that needed a home elsewhere. In the meantime, they would be residing in the storage locker he'd been renting for the last couple of years, a secure place just across the border in Maryland.

Holly shook her head, blowing a piece of hair out of her eyes.

"Just cleaning, and then I drop off my keys." Turning to Jamie, she gave the boy a cheeky grin, asking him a question she was sure she knew the answer to. "D'you want to help me clean or help your dad haul stuff to the storage locker, bud?"

The little boy's face screwed up in disgust; his adversity to chores was quickly becoming legendary, and she couldn't help but poke at it.

"Yuck, cleaning," he groaned starting to shake his head and backpedal toward the open door. "I'll go with Daddy."

"Fine. You two be careful," she said, striding forward and bending at the waist. Planting a peck in Jamie's hair, she chuckled as he shook her off. "The storage locker is a big, bad, scary place after all. You gotta protect your dad."

Steve rolled his eyes heavenward, but still accepted her parting kiss gladly. "Hilarious."

Once they were out the door, with promises to text their safe arrival and return trip given, Holly got down to work. Her bucket was filled with warm, soapy water, and the counters were scrubbed with gusto. The bathroom had been scrubbed similarly the night before, the bedroom and living room cleaned a few days before that. The split evenings spent between work and her old home ended with her falling into bed in her new bed, her husband almost tucking her in like a child a couple of times. This was the last of it, the last vestiges of her honeymoon gone and her new life unfolding around her. It was a little daunting, but she faced it with a gumption she had learned she possessed deep down.

Around two or three hours had passed before another tap at the panels came, and an entirely new head poked through the door. Well, she recalled idly, he wasn't exactly new; Mr. Fury did own the building, after all, and had been the one to initially sell her on her apartment in the first place. Performing one last swipe of the fridge door with her sponge, she checked the clock on her phone. He was right on time.

"Final checkout," he called to her, training his one good eye on her as he entered the space. He did seem intimidating, all in black and the eye patch guarding over the one injured back when he had served in the military himself, but once one got past the solid exterior, he wasn't a bad fellow at all.

"Alright, Mr. Fury. It's all set," she replied, spreading her arms almost magnanimously as he approached on the other side of the breakfast bar.

"Good, good," he intoned, looking down at the clipboard he had in hand. Flipping through the papers briefly, he did offer her a small, genuine grin when he glanced up again. "Congratulations on your wedding, by the way. And also, I'm glad that we aren't losing you entirely as a tenant."

"Just down the hall and splitting costs," she said, hooking a thumb in the direction of the apartment she would be living in permanently now. Mr Fury canted his head at that, his good eye scanning over the nearby wall critically.

"At least there's that." Flashing a look at her, the corner of his mouth curved up. "Well, aside from the kid, I know I can trust you and Rogers not to do something too stupid in there."

"Careful," she cautioned him, a playful grin on her lips as she wagged a finger at him. "I'm a Rogers now, too."

He tsked at the thought, though she caught the teasing glint in his dark iris. The checkout was performed efficiently, with him pronouncing the soundness of the place in his opinion. Taking the keys she had picked up a year and a half ago, he waited patiently as she hauled her emptied bucket and cleaning supplies out into the hallway. For a few seconds, she stood in the doorway, memories flooding back to her as she stared into the apartment. It had marked a new beginning for her, back when she first moved to Washington, D.C. Now, she had another just waiting for her down the hall.

Nodding once, she stepped back, the door closing with a soft click before Mr. Fury locked it up for the last time.

Bringing all the cleaning implements back into her new home, she ordered in pizza for the night's dinner, her men arriving home just ahead of the delivery boy. Steve had informed her of the security of all their things, and Jamie just had to tell her about how huge it was, and all the locker doors he saw and what he thought could be in them. Later on, he acted out a story with his action figures as a Disney movie played, the lion cub growing to become king of the pride as the night wore on. Comfortably snuggled against Steve's side, Holly snickered when she peered up at him and found that he'd dozed off during the film. Unfortunately, that meant he was not awake when it was time to put Jamie to bed.

Taking it upon herself, Holly helped the boy clean up his toys and escorted him to the bathroom to brush his teeth, fetching up pajamas decorated with sharks for him. His protests of not being sleepy were belied by his yawning, and soon enough his minor objection fell away as she nudged him to his room. A cup of water was waiting for him, and with only one Clifford book indulged in, she bid him good-night as she pulled the covers over him and tucked the boy in.

"Holly?" Jamie asked, sitting up in his bed before she made it to the doorway. Pausing in front of the open panel, she turned back to face him, a tired grin on her lips.

"Yeah, kiddo?"

He scratched the side of his face, contemplation in his eyes. "You're my mommy now, right? Or Step-Mommy, I guess?"

At his supposition, she dipped her chin in a nod. "Yeah. You don't have to call me that, though."

Though she was now Steve's wife, she would not impose any titles upon the boy. Jamie was her stepson, but her understanding of the situation would not allow her to demand anything. Not that she would, anyway.

She loved him, regardless of what he called her.

Jamie dipped his own chin, chewing his lip for several long moments before meeting her gaze again.

"Mommy will always be Mommy. But you can be Ma," he pronounced, a tremulous smile blooming then. Holly, blinking against the swell of feeling in her chest and stomach, felt her smile stretch wider.

"Okay, bud. You can call me Ma, if you want," she told him, her hushed and pleased tone clear as she went back to his side. Kneeling at his bedside, she gathered him in for one more hug, a kiss placed in his hair that he didn't brush away. When he pulled back, his brown eyes darted toward the doorway, and she turned to follow his glance. Steve was there, sporting a similar surprised expression on his face, and she had no doubt that he'd heard the decision his son...their son...had arrived to.

"Night, Daddy, night, Ma," Jamie broke in then, hunkering back down in his sheets and rolling over. Patting and squeezing his shoulder, Holly rose and stepped back, giving her husband enough space to enter the room and bid the little guy his own good-nights. Once the pair were out of the room and had shut the door, the blond man turned to her, eyelashes fluttering as he contemplated what he'd heard.

"He, he just..."

"His idea. He wanted to," she quickly interjected, wanting Steve to know she had not coerced Jamie in any way. Her husband's eyes opened fully then, and his arms wrapped around her, fingers sliding into her dark brown waves.

"I know," he breathed, pride and love radiating through him and out to her. His son was in his room, his wife in his arms, and happiness was at their fingertips. It was a beginning, even as the day ended and the two adults went to bed themselves, wrapped in each other's arms and preparing to meet it head-on.

* * *

 **A/N:** Finally, they are married! Not only that, Holly reaffirms her love for not only Steve, but Jamie as well, and acknowledges that she's stepping into an all-new portion of life. Nuts, huh? ;)

And, now, it begs the question...where do we go from here? Well, this is part one of a double update, which is double for a reason. Hope you are intrigued enough to find out more.

I own nothing from the MCU, nor do I own any other pop culture references made in the text (Marvel comics, etc.).

Thanks for reading, please review, and I'll see you all for the next one!


	18. Epilogue

**Several Months Later**

 _Blue sky stretched above him, enfolding him with calm and peace, something Steve knew rarely in his waking hours. It had to be a vacation, or a holiday, he surmised, given how he was unencumbered with tasks, his soul placid as he dropped his gaze and assessed where he was. Familiar climbing frames came into view, shrieking laughter ringing around him. He watched with fondness as his son ran across the lawn. The sun was high in the sky, but the day was not oppressively hot. Trees shaded the borders of grass as Jamie darted away, arms spread wide as he swept past a bench. Two women were perched upon it, both with dark hair and leaning towards a bundle of cloth folded in one of their laps. Gentle fingers swept along the blanket, and Holly looked up at him, brilliance and joy radiating from her as she picked the bundle up. Passing it into the arms of her companion, she turned her gaze back onto the other woman, her face in shadow even with the brightness of the day lighting them. With a nod, Holly scooted back, Jamie climbing into her lap and nestling against her as the other woman rose. When she faced him, he felt the breath go out of him._

 _Peggy was there, and she was smiling, happy as well._

 _Her confident stride, her lovely face, drew in his gaze as she walked over to him, the bundle in her arms held close and protected. When she was within a few inches of him, she held out the folded blanket to him, the shape of it at once familiar and different to him. As it was placed in his arms, he looked back to his first wife, the pain and sadness he often felt when he thought of her not as strong as it once was. Instead, he watched as her painted red lips stretched into a wider smile, and she leaned up to peck his cheek. She went back to the bench then, leaving him with the bundle and holding her arms open to Jamie. The child clambered off his stepmother's lap, running to her and hugging her tightly. The two women shared a long look before she inclined her chin, a kiss given to the boy before she stepped back, stepped away and disappeared into the foliage._

 _Holly and Jamie walked hand in hand to Steve then, his family ringing him as peace began to settle upon him once more. The bundle shifted again, and he peered at it, his fingers curling around the cloth to move it out of the way..._

With a jolt and a snort, Steve woke from his slumber, a muted groan in his throat as he forced his bleary eyes to open. The digital numbers of the clock told him it was nearly two in the morning, and he rolled away from it, not amused in the slightest to be roused. As he turned, his arms reached out for his bedfellow, though he found the sheets to be cool and empty. Blinking against the darkness, he heaved out another groan as he wondered where his wife had gone. Pushing back the sheets, he rose from the bed, scrubbing his hands over his face as he left the bedroom.

The floorboards of the hall shifted under his weight, the creak of the wood something he was still getting used to. The house was quite different from his old apartment, but he couldn't find it in him to complain. Despite the general creakiness and the settling of the building, the house was a hidden gem of Georgetown, tucked away amidst the high-end homes. The light blue siding invited them in, but it was the space and charm of the house—the wide kitchen, the backyard space and the detail work dating back to the 1940's—that kept them there. It was a treasure, one that they had to try for.

After all, within three months of their wedding and Holly moving in, they found out that there just wasn't enough space in the old place, and it wouldn't do to stay put with their new knowledge.

Moving had been a bit of a hassle, but now, a month after the dust had settled and they had signed to take it, he had no regrets. Swaying Jamie hadn't taken much; he would remain in his school, with his friends and new kindergarten teacher, and was glad to have a bigger bedroom of his own. The period of adjustment was, blessedly, short due to that, and the blond was just too pleased with that.

Passing the boy in question's room, he did not notice the crack of the open door, instead heading right on down the stairs to the first floor. In the entry, he turned his head when the muted roll of music greeted his ears, fingers dashing away the sleep crust in his eyes as he walked towards the sounds. The television in the living room was on, villagers singing about the day as the cartoon on the screen played out. The light of the screen shifted over the couch, over the woman in a night dress sitting along the lounge portion, a blanket spread over her lap. A small, blond boy was nestled against her side, sleeping through the opening number and his palm resting over hers...resting over the pregnant swell of her belly.

The movement in the archway of the room caught her attention, and she turned her head to look, the suspicion on her face melting away instantly upon spotting Steve.

"Hey," Holly murmured, fingers threading through her messy waves and a lazy smile blooming on her lips. He crossed over to her, choosing to go around to the back of the couch. Bracing his arms along the tops of the cushions, he inclined his chin.

"Hey," he returned, another yawn ripping through him briefly. Pointedly spiking an eyebrow at her, he asked, "What are you doing up?"

She snorted softly, not wanting to disturb the child resting against her. "Could ask you the same thing."

He tipped his head to the side, considering what had roused him.

"Dreams, I think. Not bad, but enough to get me up," he assured her, not wanting her to think that his latent issues brought on by his service were the reason why for that night. (It didn't happen often, but there had been a few nights that he'd had to muscle his way past the memories, his wife holding his hand and whispering that all was okay now, that he was safe.) The details of the dream had already faded, with only the memory of calm and acceptance coming to mind as he tried to recall it. Shrugging a shoulder, he continued, "And then I figured out you weren't in bed anymore. Had to check it out."

Holly let out a sigh; his protectiveness would never wear off, she knew, and she wasn't about to bring up the matter then. Rather, she just shot a look to her belly, her free hand framing the other side of it.

"Couldn't sleep. Well, couldn't get comfortable enough to sleep. I thought walking around might help a bit."

The corner of Steve's mouth curved up. "This doesn't look like walking around."

The brunette woman pursed her lips, though her mock annoyance was short-lived.

"It was, until I hit the creaky floorboard." She shook her head as Steve repressed a chuckle; much as with the floors of the house, one board in the hall seemed to have it out for her in particular. She always stepped on it without fail whenever she walked around upstairs. Nodding down to the boy at her side, she went on, "Jamie heard me, and then he wanted to keep me company."

Her husband's gaze strayed back to the television, and he snorted as well.

"...So he guilted you into putting on a movie."

"He was trying to help," she stated, though the staunchness of her argument was lessened by the little smirk on her lips. Clearing her throat, she nodded at the movie playing over again. It had become a recent favorite of his, the story of the beauty and the beast who falls in love with her drawing him in. Or perhaps it was the singing furniture; they weren't quite sure which it was. As the heroine smartly denounced the meathead trying to have his way with her, Holly posited, "I do believe our boy has a thing for smart, sassy brunettes who stir things up at times."

Steve's heart swelled at her pronouncement. Though he had long since considered her part of his family, their family, he was always glad to hear her own devotion in her voice, in her love for Jamie. And she did love Jamie, no matter how many tantrums he threw or how frustrated she had been at the beginning...she was his Ma, and would remain so. But he did not phrase that thought aloud then.

Presently, he chose to be cheeky. "Might be a genetic predisposition. I'm rather partial to women like that myself."

Her head tipped back against the cushion, self-deprecation twisting her grin. "Makes you wonder why you married me, then."

Frowning a bit, he leaned over, kissing her upside down to banish the spiral that hovered at the edge of her thoughts.

"You stir up things more than you think, sweetheart," he breathed as he pulled away. When she opened her eyes again, he shot her a subtle wink before pecking her forehead. "Trust me, the partiality is warranted."

"Whatever," was the apt retort, though it was given partly as a yawn. He dropped his hand on her shoulder, squeezing it tenderly.

"C'mon, you're practically asleep now. Let's get him and you to bed," he told her, going around the sofa and shutting off the television. Smoothly, he went back to her and Jamie, scooping up his boy deftly to not wake him. The little guy smacked his lips in his sleep, but he otherwise remained out.

"Fine," Holly conceded, doing the two-part shuffle to stand again. The blanket on her lap was pushed aside as she stood. One hand lit upon her swell as the other went to the small of her back, exhaustion lacing her smile as she patted her belly. "The little miss is settled enough now, I'll take it."

More warmth flooded Steve as she spoke of their youngest on the way, a little girl due just a couple of months from then.

"Good," he told his wife, nodding for her to go ahead of him. On the way upstairs, she double-checked the locks on the front door, the security alarms reset as they trotted back to the bedrooms. Jamie was tucked in again in short order, sheets around him and Teddy in his arms. With his nightlight still plugged in, the boy was left to his dreams, his father bidding him a murmured good-night before closing the door behind him. Avoiding the squeaky board, Steve made his way back to bed, Holly already curled up, the comforter swathing her as she faced the center of the bed. Lights were off, and Steve climbed in as well, shuffling in the dark to plant a kiss in her hair.

"Good night, sweetheart," he told her, brushing back the waves as they had already tangled around her. Still as pretty as when he'd first met her, he mused.

"Night," Holly mumbled, almost lost entirely to sleep by that point. "Love."

He smiled warmly as he laid down, his palm slipping under the sheets to trace along the skin of her arm before resting on her belly.

"Love you, too," he said, eyes adjusting enough to the darkness to catch the curve of her mouth. Tapping his thumb against the swell, he continued in a hushed tone, "And you, baby girl."

Thus he fell back into slumber, his own thoughts flitting from what he would have to do at work the next day, what time Jamie would need to be picked up after school, to the nursery that waited to be used by a new girl down the hall.

* * *

 **A/N:**...And that, my friends, is that.

This has been a fun, interesting experiment for me (also, kind of an early birthday present for me to finish this). I have to say, I thoroughly enjoyed it. Ultimately, I am pleased with how it has turned out, and it is a little sad to see it end. Thank you so much to everyone who has stuck with this story, who has helped me with its development, and has enjoyed it like I have! You guys are really awesome, truly!

Yet...this is not the end for this pair. Growing Pains is still ongoing, and...I have another AU planned. I'm not quite ready to air it yet, but I plan on getting it out for people to start reading within a couple of weeks, so keep your eyes peeled! I will be posting about it on my Twitter (remember, my handle there is PhanProTweets, so follow me if you haven't already! If you want to, I mean, no pressure).

Hope you have enjoyed this journey, and here's to many more!

I own nothing from the MCU, nor do I own any other pop culture references made in the text (Marvel comics, etc.).

Thanks for reading, please review, and I'll see you all in the next story!


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